No>>l        Book  h'oy\^'i>'^^ 

Santa  Barbara  _Free  Public  Library 

LIBRARY  HOURS: 

WEEK  DAYS,  Except  legal  Holidays--9  a.  m.  to  9  P.  m. 
SUNDAYS-2  to  5  p.  m. 

Any  resident  of  Santa  Barbara  above  the  age  of  ten  years,  who  shall  have 
signed  the  prescribed  application  card  and  furnished  an  acceptable  guarantor, 
shall  be  entitled  to  borrow  books  from  the  Library  for  home  use  ,^  .     .  ,, 

Books  may  be  retained  fourteen  days  unless  otherwise  specified  on  their  date 
slip  Seven  day  books  are  not  renewable;  fourteen  day  books  may  be  renewed 
once,  except  when  in  demand,  or  on  request,  may  be  stamped  for  twenty-eight  days. 

In  every  case  date  ivhen  due  is  stamped  plainly  on  date  slip. 

Books  overdue  are  subject  to  a  fine  of  five  cents  a  day,  including  Sundays 

Fa^ilure^to  pay  fine  or  defacement  and  mutilation  of  books  will  exclude  bor- 
rower from  the  privileges  of  the  Library.  All  injuries  to  books  beyond  reason- 
able wear,  and  all  losses  shall  be  made  good  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  Librarian, 
by  the  person  liable. 

Borrowers  must  not  lend  their  books  to  any  one  not  a  member  of  the  same 
household.    No  books  will  be  exchanged  on  day  of  issue. 

Suggestions  for  making  the  Library  more  useful  are  invited. 

"The  noblest  motive  is  the  public  good."    Virgil.  


A  GIFT  FROM 


r^ 


*    f^^(.  ^ 


''^/s^^a^&si ^  &l:^!^^^ce'n^/^^»c  a,  ^ioiiu/i&  4^  ^.^'f^S^ 


jyiEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER^ 


V 


J  jL-iT-^n^.^   ^ 


THOMAS    HUGHES, 

AUTHOR  OF   "TOM   BROW'N's  SCHOOLDAYS." 


BOSTON: 
JAMES    R.  OSGOOD    AND    COMPANY, 

Late  Tickxor  &  Fields,  and  Fields,  Osgood,  &  Co. 


1873. 


^^ 


AUTHOR'S  EDITION. 


PREFACE. 

This  Memoir  was  written  for,  and  at  the  request  of,  the 
near  relatives,  and  intimate  friends,  of  the  home-loving 
country  gentleman,  whose  unlooked-for  death  had  made 
them  aU  mourners  indeed.  Had  it  been  meant  originally 
for  publication,  it  would  have  taken  a  very  different  form. 
In  compiling  it,  my  whole  thoughts  were  fixed  on  my 
own  sons  and  nephews,  and  not  on  the  public.  It  tells 
of  a  life  with  which  indeed  the  public  has  no  concern 
in  one  sense ;  for  my  brother,  with  all  his  ability  and 
power  of  different  kinds,  was  one  of  the  humblest  and 
most  retiring  of  men;  who  just  did  his  own  duty,  and 
held  his  own  tongue,  without  the  slightest  effort  or  wish 
for  fame  or  notoriety  of  any  kind.  In  another  sense, 
however,  I  do  see  that  it  has  a  meaning  and  interest  for 
Englishmen  in  general,  and  have  therefore  consented  to 
its  publication  in  the  usual  way,  though  not  without  a 


viu  PREFACE. 


sense  of  discomfort  and  annoyance  at  having  the  veil 
even  partially  lifted  from  the  intimacies  of  a  private 
family  circle.  For,  in  a  noisy  and  confused  time  like 
ours,  it  does  seem  to  me  that  most  of  us  have  need  to 
be  reminded  of,  and  will  be  the  better  for  bearing  in 
mind,  the  reserve  of  strength  and  power  which  lies 
quietly  at  the  nation's  call,  outside  the  whirl  and  din  of 
public  and  fashionable  life,  and  entirely  ignored  in  the 
columns  of  the  daily  press.  The  subject  of  this  memoir 
was  only  a  good  specimen  of  thousands  of  Englishmen 
of  high  culture,  high  courage,  high  principle,  who  are 
living  their  own  quiet  lives  in  every  corner  of  th^e 
kingdom,  from  John  o'  Groat's  to  the  Land's-End,  bringing 
up  their  families  in  the  love  of  God  and  their  neighbour, 
and  keeping  the  atmosphere  around  them  clean,  and  pure 
and  strong,  by  their  example, — men  who  would  come  to 
the  front,  and  might  be  relied  on,  in  any  serious  national 
crisis. 

One  is  too  apt  to  fancy,  from  the  photographs  of  the 
nation's  life  which  one  gets  day  by  day,  that  the  old  ship 
has  lost  the  ballast  which  has  stood  her  in  such  good 
stead  for  a  thousand  years,  and  is  rolling  more  and  more 
helplessly,  in  a  gale  which  shows  no  sign  of  abating,  for 


PREFACE. 


her  or  any  other  national  vessel,  until  at  last  she  must 
roll  over  and  founder.  But  it  is  not  so.  England  is  in 
less  stress,  and  in  better  trim,  than  she  has  been  in  in 
many  a  stiffer  gale. 

The  real  fact  is,  that  nations,  and  the  families  of  which 
nations  are  composed,  make  no  parade  or  fuss  over  that  j)art 
of  their  affairs  which  is  going  right.  National  life  depends 
on  home  life,  and  foreign  critics  are  inclined  to  take  the 
chronicles  of  our  Divorce  Court  as  a  test  by  which  to  judge 
the  standard  of  our  home  life,  like  the  old  gentleman 
who  always  spelt  through  the  police  reports  to  see  "  what 
the  people  were  about."  •An  acquaintance,  however,  witli 
any  average  English  neighbourhood,  or  any  dozen  English 
families  taken  at  random,  ought  to  be  sufficient  to  reassure 
tlie  faint-hearted,  and  to  satisfy  them  that  (to  use  the 
good  old  formula)  the  Lord  has  much  work  yet  for  this 
nation  to  do,  and  the  nation  manliness  and  godliness 
enough  left  to  do  it  all,  notwithstanding  superficial 
appearances. 

A  life  without  sensation  or  incident  may  therefore  well 
form  a  more  useful  subject  of  study  in  such  a  time,  than 
the  most  exciting  narrative  of  adventure  and  success,  the 
conditions  being,  that  it  shall  have  been  truly  lived,  and 


X  PREFACE. 

faithfully  told.  Eeaders  will  judge  for  themselves  whether 
the  former  condition  has  been  fulfilled  in  this  case:  I 
wish  I  could  feel  the  same  confidence  as  to  the  latter. 
I  can  only  say  I  have  done  my  best. 

T.  H. 


TO  MY  NEPHEIVS  AND  SONS. 

My  deak  Boys, 

It  has  pleased  God  to  take  to  Himself  the  head  of 
the  family  of  which  you  are  memhers.  Most  of  you  are 
too  young  to  enter  into  the  full  meaning  of  those  words 
"  family  "  and  "  membership,"  but  you  all  remember  with 
sore  liearts,  and  the  deepest  feeling  of  love  and  reverence, 
the  gentle,  strong,  brave  man,  whom  you  used  to  call 
father  or  uncle ;  and  who  had  that  wonderful  delight  in, 
and  attraction  for,  young  folk,  which  most  very  gentle  and 
brave  men  have.  You  are  conscious,  I  know,  that  a  great 
cold  chasm  has  suddenly  opened  in  your  lives — that 
strength  and  help  has  gone  away  from  you,  to  which  you 
knew  you  might  turn  in  any  of  the  troubles  which  boys, 
and  very  young  men,  feel  so  keenly.  "Well,  I  am  glad  that 
you  feel  that  it  is  so  :  I  should  not  have  much  hope  of  you 


DEDICATION. 


if  it  were  otherwise.  The  chasm  will  close  up,  and  you 
will  learn,  I  trust  and  pray,  wliere  to  go  for  strength  and 
help,  in  this  and  all  other  troubles. 

It  is  very  little  that  I  can  do  for  you.     Probably  you  can 
do  more  for  nie  ;  and  my  need  is  even  sorer  than  yours.  But 
what  I  can  do  1  will.     Several  of  you  have  asked  me  ques- 
tions about  your  father  and  uncle,  what  we  used  to  do,  and 
think  and  talk  about,  when  he  and  I  were  boys  together. 
Well,  no  one  can  answer  these  questions  better  than  I,  for 
we  were  as  nearly  of  an  age  as  brothers  can  be — I  was 
only  thirteen  months  younger — and  we  were  companions  . 
from  our  childhood-     We  went  together  to  our  first  school, 
when  I  was  nearly  eight  and  he  nine  years  old  ;  and  then 
on  to  Eugby  together ;  and  were  never  separated  for  more 
than  a  week  until  he  went  to  Oxford,  where  I  followed  a 
year  later.     For  the  first  part  of  my  time  there,  in  college, 
we  lived  in  the  same  rooms,  always  on  the  same  staircase; 
and  afterwards  in  the  same  lodgings.    From  that  time  to  the 
day  of  his  death  we  lived  in  the  most  constant  intimacy 
and  affection.    Looking  back  over  all  those  years,  I  can  call 
to  mind  no  single  unkind,  or  unworthy,  or  untruthful,  act  or 
word  of  !?is  ;  and  amongst  all  the  good  influences  for  which 
I  have  to  be  thankful,  I  reckon  the  constant  presence  and 


DEDICATION. 


example  of  his  brave,  generous,  and  manly  life  as  one  of 
the  most  powerful  and  ennobling.  If  I  can  in  any  measure 
reproduce  it  for  you,  I  know  that  I  shall  be  doing  you  a 
good  service ;  and  helping  you,  in  even  more  difficult  times 
than  those  in  which  we  grew  np,  to  quit  yourselves  as 
brave  and  true  English  boys  and  Englishmen,  in  whatever 
work  or  station  God  may  be  pleased  to  call  you  to. 

You  have  all  been  taught  to  look  to  one  life  as  your 
jnodel,  and  to  turn  to  Him  who  lived  it  on  our  earth,  as  to 
the  guide,  and  friend,  and  helper,  who  alone  can  strengthen 
the  feeble  knees,  and  lift  wp  the  fainting  heart.  Just  in  so 
far  as  you  cleave  to  that  teaching,  and  follow  that  life, 
will  you  live  your  own  faithfully.  If  I  were  not  sure  that 
"what  I  am  going  to  try  to  do  for  you  would  help  to  turn 
you  more  trustfully  and  lovingly  to  that  source  of  all 
truth,  all  strength,  all  light,  be  sure  I  would  not  have 
Undertaken  it.  As  it  is,  I  know  it  will  be  my  fault  if  it 
does  not  do  this. 


THOMAS    HUGHES. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAOK 
FIRST  YEARS <.  1 


CHAPTER  II. 

RUGBY 17 

CHAPTER  III. 
▲  father's  letters 49 

CHAPTER  IV. 

DXFORD r.>         59 

CHAPTER  V. 

OEGREE ••••3«3         80 

CHAPTER  VI. 

n-ART  IN   LIFE ••• c8 


xvi  CONTENTS. 


CHAFTER  VII. 

PAGE 

1849-50  :  an  episode 109 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

ITALY ,....• l'2i 

CHAPTER  IX. 

MIDDLE    LIFE .•.       c       ....*...      •       130 

CHAPTER  X. 

IKTTERS   TO    HIS    BOYS ...151 

CHAPTER  XI. 

CONCLUSION .•      .      .      .      170 


MEMOIR   OF  A  BEOTHER. 


CHAPTEE  T. 


FIEST  TEARS, 


My  brother  was  "born  on  the  18th  of  Septemher,  1821 
at  Uffington,  in  Berkshire,  of  which  your  great-grandfather 
was  vicar.  Uffington  was  then  a  very  primitive  village, 
far  away  from  any  high  road,  and  seven  miles  from 
Wantage,  the  nearest  town  from  which  a  coach  ran  to 
London.  There  were  very  few  neighbours,  the  roads  were 
almost  impassable  for  carriages  in  the  winter,  and  the 
living  was  a  poor  one;  but  your  great-grandfather  (who 
was  a  Canon  of  St.  Paul's)  had  exchanged  a  much  richer 
living  for  it,  because  his  wife  had  been  born  there,  and 
was  deeply  attached  to  the  place.  Three  George  Watts's 
had  been  vicars  of  Uffington,  in  direct  succession  from 
father  to  son,  and  she  was  the  daughter  of  the  last  of  them 
So  your  grandfather,  who  was  their  only  child,  came  to 
live  in  the  village  on  his  marriage,  in  an  old  farmhouse 


2  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

close  to  the  cliurch,  to  whicli  your  grandfather  added  some 
rooms,  so  as  to  nuake  it  habitable.  If  you  should  ever 
make  a  pilgrimage  to  the  place,  you  will  not  find  the 
house,  for  it  has  been  pulled  down;  but  the  grand  old 
church  is  there,  and  White  Horse  Hill,  rising  just  behind 
the  village,  just  as  they  were  half  a  century  ago,  when  we 
first  looked  at  them.  We  could  see  the  church  from  our 
bed-room  window,  and  the  hill  from  our  nursery,  a  queer 
upper  room  amongst  the  rafters,  at  the  top  of  the  old  part 
of  the  house,  with  a  dark  closet  in  one  corner,  into  which 
the  nurses  used  to  put  us  when  we  were  more  unruly  than 
usual.  Here  we  lived  till  your  great-grandfather's  death, 
thirteen  years  later,  when  your  grandfather  removed  to  his 
house  at  Donnington. 

'  The  memories  of  our  early  childhood  and  boyhood  throng 
upon  me,  so  that  I  scarcely  know  where  to  begin,  or  what 
to  leave  out.  I  cannot,  however,  I  am  sure,  go  wroug  in 
telling  you,  how  I  became  first  aware  of  a  great  difference 
between  us,  and  of  the  effect  the  discovery  had  on  nie. 
In  the  spring  of  1828,  when  he  was  seven  and  I  six 
years  old,  our  father  and  mother  were  away  from  home 
for  a  few  days.  We  were  playing  together  in  the 
garden,  when  the  footman  came  up  to  us,  the  old  single- 
barrelled  gun  over  his  shoulder  which  the  gardener  had 
for  driving  away  birds  from  the  strawberries,  and  asked 
us  whether  we  shouldn't  like  to  go  rook-shooting.  We 
jumped  at  the  offer,  and  trotted  along  by  his  side  to  the 


I.]  FIRST  YEARS.  3 

rookery,  some  300  yards  from  the  house.  As  we  came  up 
we  saw  a  small  group  of  our  friends  under  the  trees — the 
groom,  the  village  sclioolmaster,  and  a  farmer  or  two — 
and  started  forwards  to  greet  them.  Just  before  we  got 
to  the  trees,  some  of  them  began  firing  up  at  the  young 
rooks.  I  remember,  even  now,  the  sudden  sense  of  startled 
fear  which  came  over  me.  Mj  brother  ran  in  at  once  under 
the  trees,  and  was  soon  carrying  about  the  powder-horn 
from  one  to  another  of  the  shooters.  I  tried  to  force 
myself  to  go  up,  but  could  not  manage  it.  Presently  he 
ran  out  to  me,  to  get  me  to  go  back  with  him,  but  in  vain. 
I  could  not  overcome  my  first  impression,  and  kept 
hovering  round,  at  a  distance  of  thirty  or  forty  yards, 
until  it  was  time  for  us  to  go  back;  ashamed  of  myself, 
and  wondering  in  my  small  mind  why  it  was  that  he 
could  go  in  amongst  that  horrible  flashing  and  smoke, 
and  the  din  of  firing,  and  cawing  rooks,  and  falling  birds, 
and  I  could  not. 

I  had  encountered  the  same  puzzle  in  other  ways  al- 
ready. Some  tin»e  before  my  father  had  bought  a  small 
Shetland  pony  for  us.  Moggy  by  name,  upon  which  We 
were  to  complete  our  own  education  in  riding.  "We  had 
already  mastered  the  rudiments,  under  the  care  of  our 
grandfather's  coachman.  He  had  been  in  our  family 
thirty  years,  and  we  were  as  fond  of  him  as  if  he  had 
been  a  relation.  He  had  taught  us  to  sit  up  and  hold 
the  bridle,  while  he  led  a  quiet  old  cob  up  and  down 

B  2 


4  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

with  a  leading  rein.  But,  now  tliat  Moggy  was  come,  we 
were  to  make  quite  a  new  step  in  horsemanship.  Our 
parents  had  a  theory  that  boys  must  teach  themselves,  and 
that  a  saddle  (except  for  propriety,  when  we  rode  to  a 
neighbour's  house  to  carry  a  message,  or  had  to  appear 
otherwise  in  public)  was  a  hindrance  rather  than  a  help. 
So,  after  our  morning's  lessons,  the  coachman  used  to  take 
us  to  the  paddock  in  which  Moggy  lived,  put  her  bridle  on, 
and  leave  us  to  our  own  devices.  I  could  see  that  that 
moment  was,  from  the  first,  one  of  keen  enjoyment  to 
my  brother.  He  would  scramble  up  on  her  back,  while 
she  went  on  grazing — without  caring  to  bring  her  to  the 
elm  stool  in  the  corner  of  the  field,  whicli  was  our  mount- 
ing place — pull  her  head  up,  kick  his  heels  into  her  sides, 
and  go  scampering  away  round  the  paddock  with  the 
keenest  delight.  He  was  Moggy's  master  from  the  first 
day,  though  she  not  unfrequently  managed  to  get  rid  of 
liim  by  sharp  turns,  or  stopping  dead  short  in  her 
gallop.  She  knew  it  quite  well;  and,  just  as  well,  that 
she  was  mistress  as  soon  as  I  was  on  her  back.  For 
weeks  it  never  came  to  my  turn  without  my  wishing 
myself  anywhere  else.  George  would  give  me  a  lift 
up,  and  start  her.  She  would  trot  a  few  yards,  and  then 
begin  grazing,  notwithstanding  my  timid  expostulations, 
and  gentle  pullings  at  her  bridle.  Then  he  would  run  up, 
and  pull  up  her  head,  and  start  her  again,  and  she  would 
bolt  off  with  a  flirt  of  her  head,  and  never  be  content  till 


1.]  FIRST  YEARS. 


I  "was  safely  on  the  grass.  The  moment  that  was  effected 
she  took  to  grazing  again,  and  I  believe  enjoyed  the  whole 
performance  as  much  as  George,  and  certainly  far  more 
than  I  did.  We  always  brought  her  a  carrot,  or  bit  of 
sugar,  in  our  pockets,  and  she  was  much  more  like  a  great 
good-tempered  dog  with  us  than  a  pony. 

Our  first  hunting  experience  now  came  off.  Some  stag- 
hounds — the  King's,  if  I  remember  rightly — came  down  for 
a  day  or  two's  sport  in  our  part  of  Berkshire,  and  a  deer  was 
to  be  turned  out  on  the  downs,  a  few  miles  from  our  house. 
Accordingly  the  coachman  was  to  take  us  both.  I  was  to 
go  before  him  on  one  of  the  carriage  horses,  made  safe  by 
a  leather  strap  which  encircled  us  both,  while  George  rode 
Moggy.  He  was  anxious  to  go  unattached,  but  on  the 
whole  it  was  considered  better  that  the  coachman  should 
hold  a  leading  rein,  as  no  one  knew  how  Moggy  might 
behave  with  the  dogs,  and  no  one  but  I  knew  how  com- 
pletely she  would  have  to  do  as  he  chose.  We  arrived 
safely  at  the  meet,  saw  the  deer  uncarted,  the  hounds  laid 
on,  and  lumbered  slowly  after,  till  they  swept  away  over  a 
rise  in  the  downs,  and  we  saw  them  no  more.  So,  after 
riding  about  for  some  time,  the  coachman  produced  some 
bread  and  cheese  from  his  pocket,  and  we  dismounted,  and 
hitched  up  horse  and  pony  on  the  leeward  side  of  an  old 
barn.  W^e  had  not  finished  our  lunch,  when  suddenly,  to 
our  intense  delight,  the  stag  cantered  by  within  twenty 
yards  of  us,  and,  by  the  time  we  were  on  horseback  agaia. 


e  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

the  hunt  followed.  This  time  George  and  Moggy  made 
the  most  desperate  efforts  for  freedom,  but  the  coachman 
managed  to  keep  them  in  tow,  and  so  the  hunt  went  away 
from  us  again,  I  believe  it  was  in  consequence  of  George's 
remonstrances  when  he  got  home  that  it  was  now  settled 
he  should  be  allowed  to  go  to  the  next  meet  of  the  fox- 
hounds in  our  neighbourhood  without  a  leading  rein. 
This  is  his  account  of  that  great  event,  in  a  letter  to  his 
grandmother,  almost  the  first  he  ever  WTote.  Tliose  of 
you  who  have  been  brought  up  in  the  country  will  see 
how  respectfully  he  always  treats  the  fox,  always  giving 
him  a  capital  F  when  he  mentions  him. 

"  Uffington. 
"Dear  Grandmama, 

"  Your  little  dog  Mustard  sometimes  teases  the  hawk 
by  barking  at  him,  and  sometimes  tlie  hawk  flies  at 
Mustard.  I  have  been  out  hunting  upon  our  black  pony, 
Moggy,  and  saw  the  Fox  break  cover,  and  the  hounds 
follow  after  him.  I  rode  fifteen  miles.  Papa  brought  me 
home  the  Fox's  lug.  I  went  up  a  great  hill  to  see  the 
hounds  drive  the  Fox  out  of  the  wood.  I  saw  Ashdown 
Park  House :  there  is  a  fine  brass  nob  at  the  top  of  it. 
Tom  and  I  send  best  love  to  you  and  grandpapa. 

"  I  am,  your  affectionate  grandson, 

"  George  Hughes." 

On  this  first  occasion,  as  you  may  see  by  the  letter,  your 
grandfather  was  out  with  him,  and  he  had  not  been  allowed 


L]  Jl'IRST  YEARS. 


to  follow.  But  soon  afterwards  his  great  triumpli  occurred* 
at  a  meet  to  which  he  and  Moggy  went  off  one  morning 
after  breakfast,  in  the  wildest  spirits.  Your  grandfather 
did  not  go  out  that  day ;  so  one  of  the  farmers  who  happened 
to  be  going  was  to  give  an  eye  to  Master  George,  aod  see 
that  he  got  into  no  troiible,and  found  his  way  liome.  Tliis  he 
did  about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  bearing  the  brush 
in  his  hand,  with  his  face  all  covered  with  blood,  after  the  bar- 
barous custom  of  those  days.  He  had  been  in  at  the  death  ; 
and  the  honest  farmer  recounted  to  us  in  the  broadest 
Berkshire  the  wonders  which  he  and  Moggy  had  performed 
together ;  creeping  tln-ough  impossible  holes  in  great  fences, 
scrambling  along  ditches  and  up  banks  to  the  finish,  when 
lie  had  been  singled  out  from  outside  the  ring  of  horsemen 
and  led  up  to  the  master,  the  late  Lord  Ducie,  to  be 
"  blooded  "  by  the  huntsman,  and  receive  the  brush,  the 
highest  honour  tlie  boy  foxhunter  can  achieve. 

And  so  it  was  with  all  our  games  and  exercises,  whether 
we  were  at  football,  wrestling,  climbing,  single-stick 
(which  latter  we  were  only  allowed  to  practise  in  the 
presence  of  an  old  cavalry  pensioner,  who  had  served 
at  Waterloo).  He  seemed  to  lay  hold  of  whatever  he 
put  his  hand  to  by  the  right  end,  and  so  the  secret  of 
it  delivered  itself  up  to  him  at  once.  One  often  meets 
with  people  who  seem  as  if  they  had  been  born  into  the 
world  with  two  left  hands,  and  two  left  feet,  and  rarely 
with  a  few  who  have  two  right  hands  ;  and  of  these  latter 


8  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

he  was  as  strikiiig  an  example  as  I  have  ever  known. 
Often  as  a  boy,  and  much  oftener  since,  I  have  thought  over 
this  gift,  trying  to  make  out  where  the  secret  lay.  For, 
though  never  very  ambitious  myself,  I  was  more  so  than 
he  was,  and  had  the  greatest  wish  to  do  every  exercise 
and  game  as  well  as  I  possibly  could ;  and  by  dint  of  real 
hard  work,  and  years  of  practice,  I  did  manage,  in  one 
or  two  instances,  to  reach  the  point  which  he  had  attained 
almost  as  it  were  by  instinct.  But  I  never  could  get 
nearer  to  his  secret  than  this,  that  it  lay  in  a  sort  of  uncon- 
sciousness, which  I  believe  to  be  natural  courage.  What 
I  mean  is,  that  what  might  possibly  happen  to  himself 
never  seemed  to  cross  his  mind  :  that  he  might  get  a  fall 
and  hurt  himself,  for  instance,  or  get  his  head  or  his  shins 
broken,  or  the  like.  And  so,  not  being  disturbed  by  any  such 
considerations  about  liimseK,  he  had  nothing  to  hinder  him 
from  just  falling  at  once  into  the  very  best  way  of  doing 
whatever  he  took  in  hand.  Of  course,  even  then,  it  required 
a  line  body,  as  1  have  known  boys  and  men,  of  equal  natural 
courage,  who  were  awkward  and  slow  because  they  were 
very  clumsily  put  together.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  I 
have  known  many  men  with  equally  fine  bodies  who  never 
could  get  any  decent  work  out  of  them.  Now,  with  all 
the  thinking  in  the  world  about  it,  I  never  could  have 
acquired  this  natural  gift ;  but,  by  having  an  example  of 
it  constantly  before  my  eyes,  I  got  the  next  best  thing, 
which  was  a  scorn  of  myself  for  feeling  fear.     This  by 


l]  first  yeaes. 


degrees  hardened  into  the  habit  of  doing  what  I  saw  him 
do,  and  so  I  managed  to  pass  through  school  and  college 
without  betra}dng  tlie  timidity  of  which  I  was  ashamed. 

Why  do  I  make  the  confession  now  to  you  ?  Because 
I  see  the  same  differences  in  you  that  there  were  in  us. 
One  or  two  of  you  are  naturally  courageous,  and  the  rest  as 
naturally  timid  as  I  M-as.  The  first  I  hope  will  always  bear 
with  the  others,  and  help  them,  as  my  brother  helped  me. 
If  he  had  twitted  me  because  I  could  not  come  under  the 
trees  at  the  rook-shooting,  or  because  I  was  afraid  of 
Moggy,  I  should  probably  never  have  felt  the  shame,  or 
made  the  exertion,  necessary  to  overcome  my  natural 
timidity.  And  to  you  who  are  not  naturally  courageous, 
I  would  say,  make  the  effort  to  conquer  your  fear  at  once ; 
you  can't  begin  too  early,  and  will  never  be  worth  much 
till  you  have  made  it. 

But  there  was  another  natural  difference  between  us 
which  deserves  a  few  words,  as  it  will  bring  out  his 
character  more  clearly  to  you ;  and  that  was,  that 
he  was  remarkably  quiet  and  reserved,  and  shy  with 
strangers,  and  I  the  reverse.  When  we  came  down  to 
dessert,  after  a  dinner  party,  and  had  to  stand  by  our 
father's  side  (as  the  custom  was  then  in  our  parts),  and 
say  to  each  guest  in  turn,  "  Your  good  health.  Sir,  or 
Madam,"  while  we  sipped  a  little  sweet  wine  and  water, 
the  ceremony  was  a  torture  to  him ;  while  to  me  it  was 
quite  indifferent,  and  I  was  only  running  my  eye  over  the 


10  MEMOIR  OF  A  BEOTHEB.  [chap. 

dishes,  and  thinking  which  I  should  choose  when  it  came 
to  my  turn.  In  looking  over  his  earliest  letters,  I  find  in 
one,  written  to  his  mother  a  few  weeks  after  we  first  went 
to  school,  this  passage  :  "  We  are  both  very  well  and  happy. 
I  find  that  I  like  Tom  better  at  school  than  I  do  at  home, 
and  yet  I  do  not  know  the  reason."  I  was  surprised  for  a 
moment  when  I  came  on  this  sentence.  Of  course,  if  love 
is  genuine,  the  longer  people  know  each  other,  the  deeper 
it  becomes ;  and  therefore  our  friendship,  like  all  others, 
grew  richer  and  deeper  as  we  got  older.  But  this  was  the 
first  time  I  ever  had  an  idea  that  his  feelings  towards  me 
changed  after  we  went  to  school.  I  am  not  sure  that  I 
can  give  the  reason  any  more  than  he  could;  but,  on 
thinking  it  over,  I  daresay  it  had  something  to  do  with 
this  difference  I  am  speaking  of. 

I  remember  an  old  yeoman,  a  playfellow  of  our  father's, 
who  lived  in  a  grey  gabled  house  of  his  own  at  the  end  of 
the  village  in  those  days,  and  with  whom  we  used  to  spend 
a  good  deal  of  our  spare  time,  saying  to  a  lady,  about  her 
sons,  "  Bring  *em  up  sarcy  (saucy),  Marm  !  I  likes  to  see 
bwoys  brought  up  sarcy  "  I  have  no  doubt  that  he,  and 
others,  used  to  cultivate  my  natural  gift  of  sauciness,  and 
lead  me  on  to  give  flippant  answers,  and  talk  nonsense. 
In  fact,  I  can  quite  remember  occasions  of  the  kind,  and 
G  eorge's  quiet  steady  look  at  them,  as  he  thought,  no  doubt, 
"  What  a  fool  my  brother  is  making  of  himself,  and 
what  a  shame  of  you  to  encourage  him ! "     Apart  alto- 


I.]  FIRST  YEABS.  11 

getter  from  his  shyness,  he  had  too  much  self-command 
and  courtesy  himself  to  run  into  any  danger  of  this  kind. 

Kow,  the  moment  we  got  to  school,  my  sauciness  abated 
very  rapidly  on  the  one  hand,  and,  on  the  other,  I  became 
much  more  consciously  beholden  to  him.  We  had  scarcely 
been  there  a  week  when  the  first  crisis  occurred  which 
made  us  both  aware  of  this  fact.  My  form  had  a  lesson 
in  early  Greek  History  to  get  up,  in  which  a  part  of  the 
information  communicated  was,  that  Cadmus  was  the  first 
man  who  "carried  letters  from  Asia  to  Greece."  AVhen 
we  came  to  be  examined,  the  master  asked  us,  "  What  was 
Cadmus  ? "  This  way  of  putting  it  puzzled  us  all  for  a 
moment  or  two,  when  suddenly  the  words  "  carried  letters  " 
came  into  my  head,  and,  remembering  the  man  with  the 
leather  bag  who  used  to  bring  my  father's  papers  and 
letters,  and  our  marbles  and  whipcord,  from  Farringdon, 
I  shouted,  "A  postman.  Sir."  The  master  looked  very 
angry  for  a  moment,  but,  seeing  my  perfect  good  faith,  and 
that  I  had  jumped  up  expecting  to  go  to  the  head  of  the 
form,  he  burst  out  laughing.  Of  course  all  the  boys  joined 
in,  and  when  school  was  over  I  was  christened  Cadmus. 
That  I  probably  should  not  have  minded,  but  it  soon 
shortened  into  "  Cad,"  at  which  all  the  blood  in  my  eight- 
year-old  veins  was  on  fire.  The  more  angry  I  was,  the  more 
some  of  the  boys  persecuted  me  with  the  hateful  name ; 
especially  one  stupid  big  fellow  of  twelve  or  so,  who  ought 
to  have  been  two  forms  higher,  and  revenged  himself  for 


13  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  i^citap. 

his  place  amongst  xis  little  ones  by  making  our  small  lives 
as  miserable  as  he  could.  A  day  or  two  after,  with  two  or 
three  boys  for  audience,  he  had  got  me  in  a  corner  of  the 
playground,  into  which  he  kept  thrusting  me  violently 
back,  calling  me  "  Cad,  Cad,"  while  I  was  ready  to  fly  at 
his  throat  and  kill  him.  Suddenly  we  heard  a  step  tearing 
down  the  gravel  walk,  and  George,  in  his  shirt  sleeves, 
fresh  from  a  game  of  rounders,  rushed  into  the  circle,  and 
sent  my  tyrant  staggering  back  with  a  blow  in  the  chest, 
and  then  faced  him  with  clenched  fists,  and  a  blaze  in 
his  eye,  which  I  never  saw  there  more  than  two  or  three 
times.  I  don't  think  many  boys,  or  men,  would  have 
liked  to  face  him  when  it  was  there.  At  any  rate  my  per- 
secutor didn't,  though  he  must  have  been  a  stone  heavier, 
and  much  stronger.  So  he  slunk  off,  muttering  to  him- 
self, to  the  disgust  of  the  boys  who  hoped  for  a  row,  and 
I  strutted  out  of  my  corner,  while  George  went  back 
to  his  rounders,  after  looking  round  and  saying,  "Just 
let  me  hear  any  of  yoii  call  my  brother  '  Cad '  again." 
I  don't  think  I  ever  heard  that  nickname  again  at 
our  first  school,  and  it  must  have  been  very  shortly  after 
that  he  wrote  home,  "  I  find  I  like  Tom  better  at  school 
than  I  do  at  home,  and  yet  I  do  not  know  the  reason." 
The  strongest  and  most  generous  natures  are  always  fondest 
of  those  who  lean  on  them. 

But  I  am  getting  on  faster  than  I  intended.     We  have 
not  quite  got  away  from  home  yet.     And  now  let  me  turn 


rO  FIRST  YEARS.  13 

again  to  my  story.  You  will,  I  am  sure,  be  interested 
by  the  following  letter,  which  was  written  to  us  by  Miss 
Edgeworth.  You  probably  have  never  read  her  books ; 
but  in  our  da}",  when  there  were  very  few  children's  books, 
they  were  our  great  delight,  and  almost  the  only  ones 
we  possessed,  after  "  Eobinson  Crusoe,"  ''  The  Pilgrim's 
Progress,"  and  "Sandford  and  Merton."  I  forget  how  we 
discovered  that  the  lady  who  wrote  "Prank  and  Eosa- 
mond  "  was  really  alive,  and  that  our  grandmother  actually 
had  met  her,  and  knew  her.  But,  having  made  the  dis- 
covery, we  laid  our  heads  together,  and  wrote  two  letters, 
asking  her  to  tell  us  what  were  the  contents  of  the  re- 
maining drawers  in  the  wonderful  Indian  cabinet.  Our 
grandmother  sent  her  the  letters,  and  in  due  time  we 
received  the  following  reply: — 

"  Edgeworth's  Town,  July  2<)tli,  1828> 

**  To  my  dear  young  readers,  Geoege  and  Thomas  Hughes. 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  can  write  as  well  as  read;  your 
two  letters  were  both  very  well  written,  and  I  had  pleasure 
in  reading  them.  I  am  glad  that  you  like  Harry  and  Lucy 
and  Prank  and  Eosamond.  I  wish  I  could  tell  you  any- 
thing more  that  would  entertain  you  about  the  other  nine 
drawers  of  the  India  cabinet;  but  what  I  am  going  to 
tell  you  will  disappoint  you  I  daresay,  and  I  cannot  lielp 
it.  When  Eosamond  opened  the  4th  drawer  she  found  in 
it— nothing — but  a  sheet  of  white  paper  at  the  bottom  of 
the  drawer,  and  on  the  paper  was  written  only  the  word 
China.    The  writing  was  in  a  large  round  hand,  like  that  iu 


14  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

which  your  letter  to  me  was  written.  Eosamond  shut  this 
drawer  and  opened  the  next,  which  was  the  5th — empty  ! 
On  the  paper  at  the  bottom  of  this  drawer,  in  the  same 
handwriting,  was  Constantinople.  The  6th,  the  7th,  the 
8th  which  she  opened,  one  after  another  as  fast  as  she 
could,  were  all  empty !  On  the  paper  in  the  6th  drawer, 
which  was  very  deep,  was  written— TA^  North  Pole  and 
Iceland — Norway — Sweden  and  Lapland.  In  the  8th 
drawer  was  written  Rome  and  Naples — Mount  Vesuvius 
and  Pompeii.  At  the  bottom  of  the  9th  drawer,  Persia — 
Arabia  and  India. 

"  Tlien  on  the  paper  in  the  9th  drawer  was  written  in 
small-hand  and  cramped  writing  without  lines,  and  as 
crookedly  as  might  be  expected  from  a  first  attempt 
without  lines,  what  follows  : — 

"  *  I,  little  Matt,  (which  is  short  for  Matthew),  pro- 
mise my  dear  good  kindest  of  all  aunts,  Aunt  Egerton, 
whom  I  love  best  in  the  world,  that  when  I  am  grown  up 
quite  to  be  a  great  man,  and  when  I  go  upon  my  travels 
as  I  intend  to  do  when  I  am  old  enough  and  have  money 
enough,  I  will  bring  her  home  all  the  greatest  curiosities 
I  can  find  for  her  in  every  country  for  these  drawers.  I 
have  written  in  them  the  names  of  the  countries  I  intend 
to  visit,  therefore  I  beg  my  dear  aunt  will  never  put  any- 
thing in  these  9  drawers  till  my  curiosities  come  home. 
I  will  unpack  them  myself.  N.B. — I  have  begun  this 
morning  to  make  a  list  from  my  book  of  travels  and 
voyages  of  all  the  curiosities  I  think  worthy  my  bringing 
home  for  the  India  cabinet.'      (M.  E. — A  true  copy.) 

"  My  dear  young  readers,  this  is  all  I  know  about  the 
matter.  I  am  sorry  I  can  tell  you  no  more ;  but  to  no  one 
else  have  I  ever  told  so  much.  This  letter  is  all  for  your- 
selves— from  one  who  would  like  to  see  you  very  much, 
and  who  hopes  that  you  would  like  her  too  if  you  knew 


L]  first  YJSAES.  15 

her,  though  you  might  not  like  her  at  first  sight ;  for  she  is 
neither  young  nor  pretty,  but  an  old  good-natured  friend,    • 
(Signed)  "  Makia  Edgeworth." 

In  the  winter,  before  we  went  to  school  first,  we  were 
left  alone  at  home,  for  the  first  time,  while  our  parents  paid 
some  visits.  George  was  left  in  charge  of  the  house  (under 
the  governess),  with  injunctions  to  see  that  all  things  went 
on  regularly  in  the  village.  Our  mother's  Saturday  cloth- 
ing club  was  to  be  held  as  usual,  and  we  were  not  to 
neglect  either  tlie  poor,  or  the  birds,  who  were  fed  daily 
through  the  winter  on  a  table  on  the  lawn,  just  outside  the 
dining-room  window.  The  following  letter  will  show  you 
how  conscientiously  the  trust  was  fulfilled  : — 

"Dear  Mama,  "Janua^-y  2ist,  isso. 

"We  ct're  all  well,  and  quite  free  from  colds.  All  the 
people  brought  their  money  correctly  last  Saturday.  Tims 
had  his  chimney  began  more  than  a  week  ago,  and  no  doubt 
it  is  finished  by  this  time.  I  have  told  cook  about  making 
broth  and  gruel  for  any  who  are  sick.  We  constantly  feed 
all  your  birds,  and  they  eat  as  much  as  would  give  baby 
two  meals.     We  shall  be  glad  to  see  you  and  Papa. 

*'  I  am,  your  dutiful  son, 

"Geoege  Hughes." 

One  other  letter  I  will  give  to  amuse  you.  You  elder 
boys  will  say,  that  if  he  hadn't  learnt  to  answer  questions 
better  when  he  went  to  school,  he  would  never  have  taken 
a  hioh  decree  at  Oxford : — 


16  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

«My  DEAE  Mama,  "January  2m,  1830. 

"  We  thank  you  for  the  conundrums  you  sent  us,  and 
I  think  we  have  found  out  two  of  them  : — '  If  all  the  letters 
were  asked  out  to  dinner,  which  .of  them  would  not  go  ? ' 
The  one  that  asked  them  would  not  go.  '  What  thing  is 
that  which  lights  the  eyes,  yet  never  fails  to  blind  ? '  The 
sun.  You  must  tell  us  when  you  write  whether  these  are 
right  or  not.  We  cannot  find  out  the  other  one.  Give 
my  love  to  papa,  and  tell  him  that  I  will  write  to  him 
next  week.  We  shall  be  delighted  to  see  you  home  again. 
I  think  I  am  going  on  well  with  my  Latin,  and  I  hope 
Papa  will  be  satisfied  with  me. 

"  I  am,  your  affectionate  son, 

"George  Hughes." 
We  went  to  school  together,  in  the  autumn  of  this  year, 
at  Twyford,  near  Winchester.  On  the  way  there  we  stayed 
a  few  da3's  at  Lyndhurst,  in  the  New  Forest,  at  the  house 
of  an  old  naval  officer.  He  had  another  house  near  us  in 
Berkshire,  our  favourite  resort,  as  there  were  several  little 
girls  in  the  family  of  our  own  age,  all  very  pretty.  One 
of  these  little  ladies  took  a  fancy  to  some  water-flower,  as 
we  were  walking  in  the  forest,  the  day  before  the  school 
met.  Without  saying  a  word,  George  just  jumped  into  the 
pond,  and  fetched  it  for  her;  thereby  ruining  a  new  suit  of 
clothes  (as  your  grandmother  remarked)  and  risking  his 
life,  for  there  was  no  one  but  a  nurse  with  us,  and  it  was 
just  as  likely  that  the  pond  might  be  out  of  his  depth 
as  not.  However,  as  it  happened,  no  harm  came  of  it,  and 
we  went  on  next  day  to  Twyford. 


CHAPTER  n. 

RUGBY. 

We  stayed  at  Twyford  till  the  end  of  1833,  when  our 
father  resolved  to  send  us  to  Eugby,  Dr.  Arnold  had 
been  a  little  his  junior  at  Oriel ;  and,  though  considerably 
exercised  by  the  Doctor's  politics,  he  shared  that  unhesi- 
tating faith  in  his  character  and  ability  which  seems  to 
have  inspired  all  his  contemporaries.  In  the  meantime 
George  had  gone  up  rapidly  into  the  highest  form  at 
Twyford,  amongst  boys  two  years  older  than  himself,  and 
generally  carried  off  not  only  prizes  for  the  school  work 
but  for  all  kinds  of  gymnastics.  Twyford  was  a  little 
before  its  time  in  this  respect,  as  we  had  quite  a  number  of 
gymnastic  poles  of  different  kinds  in  the  playground,  upon 
which  we  had  regular  lessons  under  a  master  who  came 
over  from  Winchester.  Every  half-year  we  had  a  gym- 
nastic examination,  attended  by  the  master's  daughters, 
and  a  lady  or  two  from  the  neighbourhood,  who  distri- 
buted the  prizes  (plates  of  fruit  and  cake)  at  the  end  of 
the  day  to  the  successful  boys.     One  special  occasion  I 

0 


18  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

well  remember,  in  which  the  excitement  ran  particularly 
high.  A  new  prize  for  vaulting  was  to  be  given,  not  for 
the  common  style  "  which  any  boy  could  do,"  our  master 
said ;  but  for  vaulting  between  the  hands.  I  don't  want 
any  of  you  to  try  it,  for  it  is  a  dangerous  exercise,  and  I 
wonder  that  some  of  us  did  not  break  our  necks  in  attempt- 
ing it.  You  had  to  place  both  your  hands  on  the  back  of 
the  vaulting  horse,  as  far  apart,  or  as  near  together,  as  you 
liked,  and  then  spring  over  between  them  without  lifting 
either,  even  for  half  an  inch.  Of  course  none  but  long- 
armed  boys  could  do  it  at  all ;  but  there  were  enough 
of  these  for  a  large  entry.  Very  soon,  however,  one  after 
another  fell  out,  either  for  touching  with  their  feet,  or 
shifting  a  hand  during  the  vault ;  and  George  and  a  very 
active  boy,  a  gi-eat  friend  of  ours  in  after  years,  Charles 
Mansfield  by  name,  were  left  alone.  They  two  went  on 
springing  over  the  horse,  without  the  least  touch  of  foot  or 
shifting  of  hand,  until  it  was  at  last  voted  by  acclamation 
that  they  should  divide  the  great  plate  of  grapes,  apples, 
and  sponge  cakes,  which  stood  ready  for  the  winner. 

But  I  must  not  tell  you  so  much  of  all  his  successes  in 
athletic  games.  These  things  are  made  too  much  of  now- 
adays, until  the  training  and  competitions  for  them  out- 
run all  rational  bounds.  What  I  want  to  show  you  is, 
that  while  he  was  far  more  distinguished  in  these  than 
any  of  you  are  at  all  likely  to  be  (or  indeed,  as  things 
stand,  than  I  for  one  should  wish  you  to  be),  he  never 


n.]  RUGBY.  19 

neglected  the  real  purpose  of  a  schoolboy's  life  for  them, 
as  you  will  see  from  some  of  his  early  letters  from  Itughy 
to  which  school  we  went  in  February  1834,  when  he  was 
only  twelve  years  old.  These  are  all  addressed  to  hi? 
father  and  mother,  and  generally  end,  "  Please  considei 
this  for  grandmama  as  well  as  for  yourselves."  No  boy 
was  ever  more  thoughtful  of  every  one  who  had  any 
possible  claim  upon  him.  Here  is  almost  the  first  oi 
them, 

"Rugby,  April  25th,  1834. 

'•'My  dear  Papa  and  Mama, 

"  I  received  your  letter  to-day.  I  have  got  a  little 
cough  now,  but  it  is  getting  better  every  day.  Tom  is 
quite  well.  I  now  generally  keep  among  the  four  first 
of  my  form,  and  I  find  that  by  application  you  are  enabled 
to  do  yourself  greater  credit  than  if  yon  trust  yourself  to 
the  assistance  of  books  or  that  of  other  boys.  Tbere  are 
two  boys  besides  myself  who  always  do  our  work  together, 
and  we  always  take  three-quarters  of  an.  hour  out  ol 
school,  besides  three-quarters  which  is  allowed  us  in  school, 
to  prepare  our  work.  The  work  of  our  form  is  the  Eume- 
nides  of  ^schylus,  Homer,  Virgil,  Horace,  and  Cicero's 
Epistles.  The  half  year  is  divided  into  two  quarters,  one 
of  which  is  for  classics  mostly,  and  the  otlier  for  histoiy. 
The  books  for  the  next  quarter  are  Arrian's  Expedition 
of  Alexander,  and  Paterculus's  History  of  Pome,  and 
Mackintosh's  English  History.  For  Composition  we  do 
Greek  Iambics  and  Latin  Veise,  which  is  generally  taken 
from  some  English  author,  and  we  translate  it  into  Latin. 
We  also  do  English  and  Latin  themes  once  a  week.  Tlie 
Easter  business  is  just  over;  there  were  three  speech  days, 

c  2 


80  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

the  rehearsal  (or  first  day),  the  day  on  which  the  poor 
people  are  allowed  to  come,  and  the  grand  day.  On  the 
grand  day  the  day  was  very  fine,  and  there  was  a  very 
large  assembly  of  people.  The  speeches  and  prize  compo- 
sitions and  poems  were — 

Sixth  Form. 

Lake.^ — Latin  essay  :  Bellum  civile  Mariannum. 
Lake  — Latin  verse :  Phoenicia. 
Clongh.2 — English  essay  :  The  English  language. 
Clough. — English  verse  :  Close  of  eighteenth  century, 
Arnold.^ — Greek  verse  :  The  murder  of  Becket. 

Fifth  Form  Essay. 

Jacson. — On  the  Sources  of  Pleasure, 
Emeris. — Speech  of  Canning  at  Lisbon. 
Simpkin. — Conclusion  of  Warren  Hastings'  triaL 

"  The  speeches  began  at  one  o'clock ;  they  were  ended 
at  three,  and  about  200  went  to  dine  at  the  '  Spread  Eagle.' 
Here  Dr.  Arnold  gained  a  complete  triumph  over  Litch- 
field and  Boughton  Leigh,  who  wanted  to  prevent  his 
health  being  drunk  on  account  of  his  politics,  or  their 
private  malice.  I  have  not  much  more  to  say  now.  Give 
my  love  to  cousins,  uncle,  grandmama,  and  everybody. 

"  I  remain,  your  affectionate  Son, 

"G.  E.  Hughes." 

He  writes  home  of  everything,  in  these  first  years, 
except  of  what  he  knew  would  only  give  pain,  and  be  quite 

1  Now  Dean  of  Durham.  *  A.  H.  Clough,  the  poet. 

»  The  Rev.  C.  Arnold,  of  Eughy. 


IT.]  BUG  BY.  21 

useless — the  exceedingly  rough  side  of  school  life  as  it 
then  existed.  A  small  boy  might  be,  and  very  frequently 
was,  fagged  for  every  moment  of  his  play  hours  day  after 
day ;  and  there  was  a  good  deal  of  a  bad  kind  of  bullying. 
But  these  things  he  took  as  a  matter  of  course,  making 
the  best  of  what  was  inevitable.  He  used  often  afterwards 
to  declare,  that  the  boys  of  that  generation  made  the  best 
fields  at  cricket  he  had  ever  seen,  and  to  set  it  down  to 
the  unmerciful  amount  of  fagging  they  had  to  go  through. 
Escape  out  of  bounds  before  you  were  caught  by  a  sixth 
form  boy,  was  the  only  remedy ;  and,  once  out  of  bounds, 
there  was  the  river  for  amusement,  and  the  railway,  upon 
which  large  gangs  of  navigators  had  just  been  put  to  work. 
George  became  a  skilful  lisherman,  and  a  most  interested 
watcher  of  the  earthworks,  and  duly  chronicles  how  he  has 
caught  a  big  eel  in  one  letter ;  in  another,  how  "  the  rail- 
way is  going  on  very  fast :  they  have  nearly  filled  up  one 
valley,  and  carried  it  over  a  stream ;"  in  a  third  how 
"  ]\Ir.  Womb  well's  show  of  wild  beasts  has  come  in, 
I  believe  the  finest  in  England,"  and  including  "four 
elephants,  a  black  tiger  and  tigress,  and  two  lions,  one 
of  which  was  the  famous  Wallace  who  fought  the  dogs." 

Before  the  end  of  the  second  year  he  had  got  through 
three  forms,  and  was  nearly  the  head  of  the  fags,  and 
anxious  to  try  his  hand  for  the  single  scholarship,  which 
was  then  offered  at  Eugby  for  boys  under  fourteen.  As 
tliere  was  only  one,  of  course  the  competition  was  a  very 


22  MEMOIR  OF  A  BBOTEEB.  [chap. 

severe  one.  But  his  first  letter  of  that  year  contains  a 
passage  too  characteristic  to  pass  over.  So  I  must 
leave  the  scholarship  for  a  moment.  "We,  with  other 
boys  who  lived  in  Berkshire  and  Hampshire,  were  often 
obliged  to  post,  or  hire  a  coach  to  ourselves,  as  there  was 
only  one  regular  coach  a  day  on  those  cross-country  roads. 
We  used  to  make  up  parties  accordingly,  and  appoint  one 
boy  to  manage  the  whole  business,  who  had  rather  a  hard 
time  of  it,  while  all  the  rest  enjoyed  themselves  in  the 
most  uproarious  manner.  George  was  soon  selected  as  the 
victim,  and  bearer  of  the  common  purse ;  and  his  conscien- 
tious struggles  with  j)ost-boys  and  hostlers,  landlords  and 
waiters,  cost  him,  I  am  sure,  more  pain  and  anxiety  than 
all  the  scholarship  examinations  he  ever  went  in  for.  Thus 
he  writes  in  February  1836,  to  tell  of  our  safe  arrival, 
and  then  goes  on : — 

"We  had  just  enough  money  to  pay  our  journey. 
The  worst  of  it  is,  tliat  every  postboy,  when  thpy  see 
that  they  are  driving  boys,  at  the  end  of  the  stage,  when 
you  pay  them  their  money,  are  never  contented,  and  say, 
'  never  given  less  than  so  and  so ; '  and,  '  shall  be  kept 
up  all  night;'  'roads  bad,'  &c.  &c.,  and  keep  on  bothering 
you  till  you  really  don't  know  what  to  do.  However,  that 
is  over  now,  and  v/e  are  fairly  settled  again  at  Eugby,  and 
very  comfortable." 

And  then,  at  the  end  of  the  half,  when  he  has  to  begin 
arranging  for  the  return  journey,   "the  Doctor  will  not 


II.]  RUGBY.  23 

take  any  account  of  these  plaguey  postboys,  and  so  always 
allows  us  too  little  journey  money." 

"December  llth,  1836. —  About  our  journey  money;  I 
do  not  think  that  Dr.  Arnold  gives  us  quite  enough.  I 
suppose  he  does  not  exactly  know  the  distance  we  have  to 
go.  He  only  gives  us  30s.  each,  I  think  you  always  give 
us  61.  (or  21.  apiece)  to  go  there,  which  just  takes  us,  in- 
cluding everything." 

We  were  always  encouraged  to  bring  our  friends  home, 
but  how  scrupulous  he  was  about  using  the  privilege  the 
remainder  of  the  letter  just  quoted  will  show  you  : — 

"  There  is  a  boy  who  will  go  all  the  way  home  with  us — 

G .    He  is  a  praepostor.    He  is  going  as  far  as  Newbury 

that  day,  where  he  is  going  to  sleep,  and  go  on  in  the 
Oxford  coach  to  Winchester,  where  he  stops.  Would  you 
think  it  any  inconvenience  to  give  him  a  iDcd  ?  It  is  not, 
however,  of  the  least  consequence,  only  I  think  that  being 
a  stranger  in  those  parts  he  would  take  it  kindly,  and  be 
able  to  return  the  favour  to  Walter  or  Tom  at  Eugby.  If 
you  think  it  the  least  inconvenience  pray  tell  me,  for  it 
does  not  signify  one  jot :  I  have  not  said  a  word  to  him 
on  the  subject  yet.  We  begin  to  smell  the  approach  of 
the  holidays;  the  bills  are  being  made  up,  the  trunks 
brought  down,  the  clothes  cleaned,  &c.  &c.  I  shall  take 
care  to  peep  into  the  Museum  on  my  road  through  Oxford, 
as  I  did  not  half  satisfy  my  curiosity  before.  1  am  glad 
to  hear  that  Dumple  goes  well  in  harness;  also  that  the 
wild  ducks  "  habitant  in  flumine  nostro,  quos  ego,  maxime 
gaudeo;"  that   Mr.  Majendie  has  approved  of  my  Lyric 


24  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

verses,  which,  however,  I  cannot  think  merit  such  com- 
mendation. There  has  been  a  great  balloon  mania  in  the 
school  lately ;  everybody  has  been  making  a  balloon.  We 
set  them  off  with  spirits  of  wine  lighted  under  them,  and 
then  run  after  them.  They  generally  go  about  five  miles, 
and  we  always  recover  them  after  a  hard  run.  I  have  cut 
one  out  myself  from  tissue  paper,  and  I  will  bring  it  home 
that  I  may  have  the  pleasure  of  setting  it  off  before  Jenny. 
I  think  she  would  like  to  see  it." 

But  I  am  forgetting  the  scholarship. 

"  Rugby,  3Iarch  16,  1836, 
"  I  will  now  tell  you  what  I  was  examined  in  for  the 
scholarship  ;  1st,  in  composition,  Latin  theme  ;  subject, 'Est 
natura  hominum  novitatis  avida,'  which,  as  you  may  imagine, 
was  very  easy ;  Latin  verse, '  The  Battle  of  Thermopylae ; ' 
English  theme,  '  Painting,'  also  very  easy.  In  the  Latin 
verse  I  did  seventeen  verses  in  two  hours,  which  was  more 
than  any  other  of  the  candidates,  and  I  quite  satisfied 
myself  in  the  other  two  subjects.  In  Latin  construing  we 
had  a  passage  from  Virgil  and  Caesar,  and  in  Greek, 
Homer's  Odyssey.  We  were  also  examined  in  St.  Paul, 
and,  thanks  to  your  abbreviation,  I  answered  all  the 
questions.  We  have  yet  to  be  examined  in  Mackintosh, 
French,  and  mathematics. 

"  I  think  now  I  have  satisfied  you  with  respect  to  the 
work  of  the  scholarship." 

In  his  next  of  April  2nd,  he  communicates  the  result  as 
follows,  but  not  mentioning  that  six  of  his  competitora 
were  older  than  he.  and  in  higher  forms  : — 


IT.]  RUGBY.  25 

"We  are  all  quite  well.  I  did  not  get  the  scholarship, 
but  I  was  third.  I  have  been  promoted  out  of  the  lower 
into  the  middle  fifth,  and  I  am  doing  very  well  in  it.  We 
read  Demosthenes,  Thucydides,  Cicero  in  Verrem,  and  the 
Antigone  of  Sophocles.  The  great  examination  at  the  end  of 
the  half  is  soon  going  to  be  set.  The  middle  hlth  and 
upper  fifth  are  examined  together,  and  if  I  do  well  in  it  I 
may  be  high  up  in  the  fifth  at  the  end  of  the  half." 

He  did  well,  as  usual,  and  got  into  the  fifth  at  the  summer 
examination.  Your  grandmother  had  a  small  bookcase 
made  on  purpose  for  our  prizes,  which  was  being  rapidly 
filled  by  George.  He  writes  thus  to  her  just  before  our 
holidays : — 

"June  Qth,  1830. — I  have  got  some  good  news  for  you. 
I  have  got  an  addition  to  your  rosewood  bookcase,  alias  a 
prize.  It's  called  '  Piickman's  Architecture.'  It  is  very 
nicely  bound,  and  has  some  nice  pictures  of  abbeys  and 
churches,  with  a  description  of  all  the  fine  cathedrals  and 
large  churches,  amongst  which  I  saw  our  old  Utiington 
church.     Uonnington  Castle  was  also  mentioned." 

On  returning  as  a  fifth  form  boy  he  describes  the  fifth 
form  room,  of  which  he  is  now  free,  with  great  delight,  and 
reverence  for  its  "  two  sofas,  three  tables,  curtains,  and 
large  bookcase,"  and  adds — 

"  I  have  got  a  nice  double  study  to  myself,  but  I  wish  I 
had  some  more  books,  since  I  think  that  nothing  makes  a 
study  look  so  nice  as  books.  I  must  bring  some  to  Eugby 
next  half;  I  can  take  care  of  them  now.  I  have  lately 
been  engaged  in  making  an  English  verse  translation  of  a 


26  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

chorus  in  the  Eumenides,  and  I  will  give  it  you,  if  yoa 
think  it  worth  while  reading.  I  wish  you  would  criticize 
it  as  much  as  you  can.  I  know  it  is  very  imperfect,  but 
as  it  is  the  first  regular  copy  of  English  verse  I  ever  did,  1 
think  it  is  pretty  good  for  me.     Here  it  is,"  &c. 

But  I  shall  not  copy  it  out  for  fear  of  tiring  you,  and 
indeed  I  feel  that  I  must  hurry  over  the  rest  of  his  school 
life.  When  every  line  and  word  is  full  of  life  and  interest 
to  oneself,  it  is  perhaps  hard  to  judge  where  to  stop  for  the 
next  generation.  A  few  short  extracts,  however,  from  his 
letters  during  his  last  three  years  will,  I  think,  interest 
you.  At  least  some  of  the  references  will  show  you  what 
a  time  of  revolution  you  were  born  into.  When  we  were 
your  ages  there  was  no  railway  between  London  and 
Birmingham  :  and  in  all  other  directions,  and  on  all  other 
sides  of  English  life,  the  change  seems  to  me  quite  as  great 
as  in  this  of  locomotion. 

"April  1837. — They  are  getting  on  very  fast  with  the 
railroad,  and  1  hear  that  it  is  to  be  finished  in  August.  I 
intend  going  to-morrow  to  Kilsby  to  see  a  very  large  tunnel 
that  they  are  making  for  the  railroad  there. 

'■  There  has  been  a  row  about  fishing.  Mr.  Boughton 
Leigh's  keeper  took  away  a  rod  from  a  fellow  who  was 
fishing  in  a  part  of  the  river  that  has  always  been  given  to 
the  fellows  to  fish  in,  but  which  the  keeper  said  was  a 
preserve  of  Mr.  Leigh's.  The  fellows  went  in  a  body  to 
Mr.  Leigh's  house,  but  found  he  had  gone  to  London  ;  they 
are  going  to  write  a  letter  to  him,  asking  the  reason  of 
taking  the  rod.     The  fellow  who  had  his  rod  takeu  away 


II.]  BUGBY.  27 

has  caiiglit  an  immense  quantity  of  pike,  and  this  half  he 
caught  in  one  afternoon  two,  one  5  lbs.,  the  other  three." 

''June  1837. — I  dare  say  you  will  be  glad  to  hear  that 
Stanley  ^  has  got  the  English  verse ;  they  say  it  is  the  best 
since  Heber's  Palestine  that  has  been  written ;  some  part 
of  it  was  quoted  in  the  'Standard.'  Vaughan  ^  also  has 
got  the  Porsou's  Greek  verse,  and  the  Greek  Ode  aud 
Epigrams." 

"  Septcmler  1837. — There  was  a  meeting  at  Rugby  a 
little  while  ago,  got  up  by  some  horrid  Radicals,  about  pay- 
ing Church  rates,  whether  they  should  pay  them  or  not; 
but  there  was  a  very  large  majority  that  they  sliould  pay 
them ;  although  half  the  town  are  Dissenters,  and  another 
quarter  Radicals." 

"November. — I  suppose  Tom  has  told  you  that  I  have 
been  raised  to  the  sixth  form,  and  am  now  a  prsepostor.  I 
do  not  find  the  work  much  liarder  than  it  was  in  the  fifth. 
A  Mr.  Walker,  philosophical  lecturer,  has  just  been  here, 
and  when  he  Ibund  the  fellows  would  not  come  to  his 
lectures,  and  heard  that  they  were  playing  football,  delivered 
himself  of  this  elegant  sentence,  '  Brutes,  to  prefer  football 
to  philosophy  ! '  which  you  may  imagine  caused  a  laugh,  and 
did  not  at  all  further  his  object  of  procuring  an  audience. 
This  same  person  afterwards  caused  an  article  to  be  put 
into  the  Northampton  Herald  complaining  of  the  conduct 
of  Dr.  Arnold,  in  not  allowing  the  boys  to  go  without  j)er- 
mission  of  their  parents.  Yesterday  the  school  house,  after 
a  resistance  of  six  days,  were  beaten ;  but  it  is  not  quite 
certain  about  whether  it  was  a  goal  or  not,  and  perhaps  we 
shall  play  it  again.     The  classing  examination  is  just  going 

*  Now  Dean  of  Westminster.  ^  Master  of  the  Temple. 


28  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

to  "begin.  I  believe  I  am  pretty  well  prepared.  Clough 
has  gone.  Dr.  Arnold  has  been  away  at  London,  at  an 
examination  of  London  University.  Dr.  Arnold's  two  sons 
are  now  at  Kugby,  having  left  Winchester.  I  have  changed 
my  study,  and  have  now  a  honibly  dark  place  in  the 
bottom  passage,  which  it  is  tlie  fate  of  tlie  bottom,  prae- 
postor in  tlie  house  to  have,  but  I  shall  leave  it  next  half." 


"  March  1838. — I  write  to  tell  you  that  I  should  like  to 
write  for  one  of  the  prizes,  as  I  tln'nk  it  will  be  a  good 
exercise  for  me;  I  have  no  particular  choice,  but  I  should 
prefer  either  the  English  prose,  '  On  the  increased  facility 
of  local  communication,  and  its  probable  effects  on  society,' 
or  the  Latin  verse  '  On  the  abdication  of  Charles  the 
Fifth ; '  and  I  wish  you  woiild  tell  me  which  you  think 
the  best. 

"  The  London  and  Birmingham  Eailroad  has  been  opened 
from  Eugby  to  Birmingham,  and  also  from  Stoney  Strat- 
ford to  London,  but,  in  consequence  of  Kilsby  tunnel  falling 
in,  it  will  not  yet  be  opened  the  whole  way  :  it  is  opened 
all  the  way  now  except  thirty  miles  in  the  middle.  I  saw 
one  of  the  trains  go  by  yesterday  for  the  first  time  in  my 
life,  and  I  wtis  very  much  astonished." 

"June  1838. — Have  you  read  Mr.  Dickens'  'Nicholas 
Nickleby  ? '  I  liked  it  very  much,  though  I  thought  some 
parts  of  it  are  very  much  exaggerated  and  unnatural ;  par- 
ticularly that  about  the  school,  if  you  have  read  it.  I  am 
sure  no  one  could  help  laughing  at  it ;  but  I  think  '  Oliver 
Twist '  much  superior. 

"The  Great  London  and  Birmingham  Eailroad  is  to  be 
opened  throughout  to-morrow  week,  I  believe,  t)o  there 
will  be  no  more  coaches  to  bother  us." 


n.]  BUG  BY.  29 

A"bout  this  time  a  scribbling  fever  attacked  the  upper 
boys  at  Eugby.  A  year  or  two  earlier  the  Rughj  Magazine 
had  gained  considerable  repute,  from  the  publication  of 
some  of  Clough's  early  poems,  and  contributions  by  others 
of  the  Stanley  and  Vanghan  generation  ;  and  had  thus 
furnished  a  healthy  local  outlet  for  the  literary  secretions 
of  the  sixth  form.  But  that  journal  was  now  no  more,  so 
we  were  thrown  back  on  the  periodicals  of  the  outside 
world.  To  get  a  copy  of  verses,  or  a  short  article,  into  one 
of  these,  was  looked  upon  as  an  heroic  feat,  like  making 
fifty  runs  in  a  school  match.  And  of  all  the  maga- 
zines, and  they  were  much  fewer  in  those  days,  Bentley's 
was  the  favourite ;  chiefly,  I  think,  because  of  the  "  In- 
goldsby  Legends,"  which  were  then  coming  out  in  it.  Mr. 
Barham  was  an  old  friend  of  your  grandfather ;  and  I 
believe  it  was  through  him  that  George  had  'the  pleasure 
of  seeing  himself  in  print  for  the  first  time.  The  editor 
accepted  some  translations  of  Anacreon,  which  he  had 
done  out  of  school-hours.  Here  are  two  specimens,  and 
though  I  do  not  care  to  see  any  of  you  writing  for  maga- 
zines, I  should  be  glad  to  think  that  you  could  render  a 
classic  so  well  at  the  age  of  seventeen  : — 

ANACEEON   MADE   EASY. 

The  dark  earth  drinks  the  heaven's  refreshing  rain ; 
Trees  drink  the  dew ;  the  ocean  drinks  the  air ; 


30  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

The  sun  the  ocean  drinks ;  the  moon  again 

Drinks  her  soft  radiance  from  the  sun's  bright  glare. 

Since  all  things  drink,  then — earth,  and  trees,  and  sea, 
And  sun  and  moon  are' all  on  quaffing  set. 

Why  should  you  quarrel,  my  good  friends,  with  me. 
Because  I  love  a  pot  of  heavy  wet  ? 


QeXoi  Xeyeiv  ArpeiSa? 

I  wished  the  two  Atreid£es'  fame  to  sing, 

And  woke  my  lyre  to  a  bold  martial  strain, 
Ii  vain,  alas  !  for  when  I  touched  the  string, 

The  song  to  love  and  Cupid  turned  again. 
I  changed  my  string,  then  my  whole  lyre,  I  vow 

Nought  uwnld  come  out  but  sentiment  and  sighs. 
Till  Cupid  broke  my  numskull  with  his  bow  : 

"  Learn  your  own  place,  presumptuous,  and  be  wise. 
If  you  sport  epic  verses,  for  your  pains 

Nought  will  you  get,  of  that  one  fact  I'm  cartin. 
Leave  to  old  Grinding  Homer  blood  and  brains. 

And  stick  to  me,  old  boy,  I'll  make  your  fortin." 

When  "  Bentley  "  arrived  at  the  school-house  we  were 
all  in  astonishment,  and  not  a  little  uplifted  at  this  feat, 
which  seemed  to  link  the  school-house  to  the  great  world 
of  literature.  George  took  it  very  quietly,  mentioning  it 
thus  in  his  next  letter  home : — 

"Sept.  1838. — '  'Tis  pleasant,  sure,  to  see  oneself  in  print. 
I  saw  my  production  in  Mr.  Bentley's  last  number  by  the 
side  of  much  more  deserving  ones  :  I  was  very  much 
amused  with  the  last  number,  particidarly  with  the  report 


n.]  RUGBY.  31 

of  the  proceedings  of  the  IMiidfog  Association.  The  idea 
of  giving  the  young  noblemen  and  gentlemen  a  place 
on  purpose  for  their  pranks  was  delightful,  and  likely  I 
should  think  to  knock  that  sort  of  thing  on  the  head." 

We  now  went  always  by  rail  to  London,  the  guards  of 
those  days  allowing  us,  for  some  time,  to  travel  outside, 
where  we  scrambled  about  amongst  the  luggage,  and  climbed 
down  into  the  carriages  while  the  train  was  going.  I 
often  wonder  that  none  of  us  broke  our  necks,  especially 
the  present  Scotch  Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  W.  Adam, 
who  was  the  most  reckless  of  us  all  at  these  exploits.  We 
always  managed,  during  our  few  hours  in  town,  to  call  on 
some  of  our  father's-  literary  friends,  who  were  wonderfully 
kind  to  us.     Here  is  a  specimen  : — 

"March  1839. — I  then  went  and  called  on  Mr.  Barham, 
and  we  went  for  a  walk,  first  up  into  St.  Paul's  Library, 
where  I  saw  some  very  fine  books.  We  then  went  to  Drury 
Lane  Theatre,  and  Mr.  Barham  got  us  tickets  for  that  night 
from  Mr.  Peake,  who  is,  I  believe,  stage  manager.  It  was 
curious  to  see  the  difference  between  the  theatre  in  the  day- 
time, and  when  it  was  lighted  up  at  night.  We  then  went 
to  the  Garrick  Club  and  saw  all  the  pictures  there,  which 
were  very  interesting.  We  went  to  Drury  Lane  that  night 
and  saw  Mr.  Van  Amburgh  and  his  lions,  which  was  the 
tH^^Xy  thing  worth  seeing  in  the  evening.  I  saw  some  other 
lions,  authors,  &c.  whom  Mr.  Barham  knew ;  I  am  sure  I 
think  he  knows  everybody.  I  must  hot  forget  to  tell 
you  that  we  went  through  Alsatia,  to  a  coal  wharf  Mr. 
Barham  wanted  to  visit, 

"  Have  you  seen  Sir  Eobert  Peel's   speech  about  the 


S2  ME2I0IR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

Corn  T-aws  ?  I  should  think  he  must  have  tired  his  legs  and 
his  lun^s  both,  before  he  sat  down :  I  don't  understand 
much  about  it,  but  it  seems  to  cause  a  good  deal  of  excite- 
ment." 

In  the  summer  of  1839  he  went  in  for  the  Exhibition 
examination,  and  did  so  well  that  his  success  in  1840  (his 
last  year)  was  almost  a  certainty.  But  he  did  not  remain 
for  another  examination,  and  I  must  tell  you  the  reason  ot 
his  leaving  before  his  time,  because,  though  I  was  then 
furiously  on  the  other  side,  I  think  now  that  he  was  in 
the  wrong.  It  was  one  of  those  curious  difficulties  which 
will  happen,  I  suppose,  every  now  and  then  in  our  great 
public  schools,  where  the  upper  boys  have  so  much  power 
and  responsibility,  and  in  which  there  are  (or  were)  a 
number  of  customs  and  traditions  as  to  discipline,  which 
are  almost  sacred  to  the  boys,  but  scarcely  recognized  by 
the  masters. 

It  happened  thus.  Just  at  this  time  the  sixth  form 
boys  were  on  the  average  smaller  and  younger  than  usual, 
while  there  were  a  great  number  of  big  boys,  not  high 
up  in  the  school,  but  excellent  cricketers  and  football 
players,  and  otherwise  manly  and  popular  fellows.  They 
Bwarmed  in  the  eleven,  and  big-side  football,  and  were 
naturally  thrown  very  much  with  George  and  his  friend 
Mackie.^     In  some  houses,  no  doubt,  they  were  inclined 

*  Afterwards  M.P.  for  Dumfriessliire,  a  fine  scholar  and  great  athlete, 
who  died  only  uiue  months  before  hia  old  friend. 


IL]  BUaBT.  33 

rather  to  ignore  the  authority  of  the  sixth  themselves, 
and  of  course  their  example  was  followed  by  the  fags, 
so  that  the  discipline  of  the  school  began  to  fall  out  of 
gear.  At  last  matters  came  to  a  crisis.  Some  of  the 
sixth  form  took  to  reporting  to  the  Doctor  cases  which, 
according  to  school  traditions,  they  ought  to  have  dealt 
with  themselves ;  and  in  other  ways  began  to  draw  the 
reins  too  tightly.  There  were  "levies"  (as  we  called 
them)  of  the  sixth  and  fifth,  at  which  high  words 
passed,  and  several  of  the  sixth  were  sent  to  Coventry. 
This  made  the  Doctor  very  angry,  and  he  took  the  side 
of  the  disciplinarians.  Then  came  a  rebellious  exhibi- 
tion of  fireworks  one  evening  in  the  quadrangle.  Then 
an  Italian,  with  a  lot  of  plaster  casts,  committed  the  un- 
pardonable sin  of  coming  into  the  Close  without  leave,  and 
his  wares  were  taken,  and  put  up  for  "  cock-shyes."  He 
went  straight  to  the  Doctor,  who  insisted  that  the  sixth 
should  discover  and  report  the  offenders ;  but  those  who 
would  could  not,  and  those  who  might  would  not.  The 
Doctor's  face  had  been  getting  blacker  and  blacker  for 
some  time,  and  at  last,  one  November  morning,  he  sent 
half  a  dozen  of  the  big  fifth  and  middle  fifth  boys  home, 
and  told  George  and  his  friend  Mackie,  and  one  or  two 
other  sixth  form  boys,  that  they  could  not  return  after  the 
end  of  the  half-year. 

And  here  I  will  give  you  two  of  your  grandfather's 
letters  to  us  on  these  matters,  to  show  you  how  we  were 

D 


34  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [cnAr. 

brought  "up.     He  was  an  old  Westminster  himself,  and  so 
quite  understood  the  boys'  side  of  the  dispute. 

He  begins  to  George,  telling  him  first  about  home  doings, 
and  then  goes  on  : — 

"  T  have  received  a  letter  from  Dr.  Arnold  deserving 
attention,  by  which  it  appears  that  you  have  been  remiss 
in  your  duties  as  a  prieposter,  though  he  speaks  fairly 
enough  as   to  your    own  personal   conduct.     He   alludes 
particidarly  to  the  letting  off  of  fireworks,  and  the  man 
whose    images    were  broken,   in  neither    of    which    you 
appear   to  have  shown   due    diligence   in   discovering  or 
reporting  the  boys  concerned.     Moreover,  he  thinks  that 
those  prajposters  who  have  been  more  active  in  enforcing 
the  school  routine  have  been  unjustly  treated  with  con- 
tempt and  insult  by  the  larger  party  of  the  boys — in  fact, 
either  bullied,  or  cut ;  and  evidently  he  thinks  that  you 
have  been  amongst  the  cutters.     Now,  it  is  impossible  for 
me  to  enter  into  the  exact  merits  of  the  case  at  a  distance ; 
and  possibly  I  may  not  be  inclined  to  see  it  in  all  its 
details  with  the  eye  of  a  zealous  schoolmaster ;    but,  as 
you   are  now  of  a  thinking  age,  I  will  treat  the  matter 
candidly  to  you,  as   a  man  of   the  world  and  a  man  of 
business,  in  which  capacities  I  hope  to  see  you  efficient 
and  I'espected  in  the  course  of  a  few  years.     Your  own 
conduct  seems  to  be  gentlemanly  and  correct.    Very  good ; 
this  is  satisfactory  as  far  as  it  goes.     But  cleaiiy,  by  the 
regulations  of  the  school,  you  have  certain  duties  to  per- 
form, the  strict  execution  of  which  may  in  some  cases  be 
annoying  to  your  own  feelings,  and  to  that  esprit  de  corps 
which  always  exists  among  boys.     Nevertheless,  they  must 
be  performed.     Those  young  men  who  have  a  real  regard 
for  the  character  of  their  school,  which  all  of  you  are  ready 


ii]  RUGBY.  35 

ciiou^^li  to  stickle  for  when  you  get  outside  its  walls,  must 
not  allow  it  to  become  a  mere  blackguard  bear-garden,  and 
to  stink  in  the  nostrils  of  other  public  schools,  by  tolera- 
ting, in  those  they  are  expected  to  govern,  such  things  as 
they  would  not  do  themselves.  When  you  grow  a  little 
older  you  will  soon  perceive  that  there  is  no  situation  in 
life  worth  having,  and  implying  any  respect,  where  moral 
firmness  is  not  continually  required,  and  unpleasant  duties 
are  to  be  performed.  Were  you  now  in  the  army,  you 
woiild  find  that  if  you  were  not  strict  enough  with  your 
men,  you  would  have  a  pack  of  drunkards  and  pilferers 
under  your  command,  disgracing  the  regiment ;  and  would 
receive  a  hint  from  your  Colonel,  in  double  quick  time,  to 
mend  your  vigilance  or  sell  out.  Ditto,  if  you  were  older 
and  a  college  tutor.  I  remember  a  clever,  amiable,  and 
learned  man,  whom  our  young  fellows  used  to  laugh  at 
behind  his  back,  and  play  tricks  on  before  his  face,  be- 
cause he  laboured  under  such  a  nervous  gentlemanly 
scrupulousness  that  he  could  not  say  Bo  to  a  goose,  and 
therefore  they  learned  little  under  him.  I  find  myself  that 
a  magistrate  has  many  harsh  and  disagreeable  duties  to 
perform,  but  he  must  perlbrni  them,  or  the  law  of  the  land 
becomes  an  old  song,  and  his  own  person  ridiculous.  So 
that,  in  fact,  I  only  urge  you  to  conform  yourself,  like  a 
sensible  peison,  to  the  general  condition  of  human  life.  I 
am  inclined  to  think  that  the  slackness  in  your  case  has 
arisen  moie  from  c(jnstitutional  ease  of  temper  than  tor 
fear  of  what  a  clique  of  disorderly  fellows  might  say  ot 
you  :  for  if  it  had  been  the  latter  motive,  I  am  sure  you 
had  it  not  by  inheritance  from  your  mother  or  me.  But 
this  ease  of  temper  njay  be  carried  to  a  fault.  In  a  word, 
you  must  coirect  it  furthwith  in  your  conduct  as  a  prie- 
poster,  if  you  expect  that  1  can  treat  you,  as  I  wish  to  do, 
in  the  light  of  a  young  man,  and  a  responsible  person :  as 

D  2 


36  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [ohap. 

to  my  affection,  you  will  always  have  that,  so  long  as  your 
own  conduct  is  good.  Now  as  to  those  crackers  ;  you  must 
have  known  the  thing  was  childish  and  dangerous,  and 
forbidden  for  good  reasons.  Eemember  poor  Harrow.'- 
Therefore  you  might  have  interposed  in  a  firm  and  civil 
way,  and  prevented  it  on  pain  of  instant  report  to  the 
master,  and  no  one  could  have  complained  that  you  did 
anything  ungentlemanly.  As  to  the  fellows  who  broke 
the  poor  man's  images  and  would  not  fork  out  the  damage, 
Iwish  you  had  been  more  successful,  perhaps  more  active, 
in  discovering  them ;  if  you  had  broken  their  heads  I 
could  not  have  blamed  you.  But  on  this  I  must  write 
to  Tom.  So  good  bye;  and  if  you  really  value  my 
respect  for  your  character,  look  sharper  to  your  police 
department.    Eemember  you  are  no  longer  a    child." 

Then,  on  the  same  sheet,  follows  a  letter  to  me.  I  must 
explain  that  I  had  been  one  of  the  image  breakers,  but 
had  come  forward  with  one  of  the  others  and  paid  the 
damage. 

"  I  have  heard  an  account  of  the  affair  of  the  images. 
You  should  have  remembered,  as  a  Christian,  that  to  insult 
the  poor  is  to  despise  the  ordinance  of  God  in  making  them 
so  :  and  moreover,  being  well  born  and  well  bred,  and 
having  lived  in  good  company  at  home,  which,  may  be,  has 
not  been  the  privilege  of  all  your  schoolfellows,  you  should 
feel  that  it  is  the  hereditary  pride  and  duty  of  a  gentleman 
to  protect  those  who  perhaps  never  sat  down  to  a  good 
meal  in  their  lives.  It  would  have  been  more  manly  and 
creditable  if  you  had  broken  the  head  of ,  or  some 

1  There  had  recently  been  a  fireworks  row  at  Harrow,  the  details  of 
which  had  got  into  the  newspapers,  creating  much  scandal. 


U.]  HUG  BY.  37 

pompous  country  booby  in  your  back  settlement,  than 
smashed  the  fooleries  of  this  poor  Pagan  Jew,  which  ^vere 
to  him  both  funds  and  lauded  estate.  This  strict  truth 
obliges  me  to  say,  though,  if  you  had  bought  his  whole 
stock  to  indulge  the  school  with  a  cock-shy,  1  should  only 
have  said  '  A  fool  and  his  money  are  soon  parted.'  It  is 
impossible,  however,  to  be  angry  with  you,  as  you  came 
forward  like  a  lad  of  spirit  and  gentlenianly  feeling  to 
repair  your  share,  and  perhaps  more  than  your  share,  ot 
the  damage.  The  anxiety  the  poor  fellow  had  suffered  you 
could  not  make  up  to  him.  And  it  is  well  that  you  did 
make  such  reparation  as  you  did  ;  had  it  not  been  the  case, 
you  never  would  have  recovered  the  place  you  would  have 
lost  in  my  esteem.  Remember,  this  sort  of  thing  must 
never  happen  again  if  you  value  that  esteem.  And  have 
no  acquaintance  you  can  avoid  with  the  stingy  cowards 
who  shirked  their  share  of  the  damage  :  they  can  be  no  fit 
company  for  you  or  any  gentleman.  I  don't  know  what  the 
public  opinion  of  Ivugby  says  of  them.  We  plain  spoken  old 
Westminsters,  in  the  palmy  days  of  the  school,  should  have 
called  them  dirty  dogs ;  and  so  much  for  them,  more  words 
than  they  are  worth.  I  am  glad  to  find  that  your  general 
conduct  is  approved  by  the  Doctor :  and  now  that  you 
have  put  your  hand  to  the  plough,  don't  take  it  off;  and 
God  bless  you." 

In  conclusion,  to  George: — 

"  Don't  cut,  or  look  shy  on,  any  of  the  prseposters  who 
have  done  their  duty,  if  you  do  not  think  they  are  acting 
from  private  pique,  or  love  of  power.  This  question  you 
have  sense  and  honesty  to  decide  for  yourself.  I  have 
hinted  to  Arnold  that  it  may  be  so,  but  cannot  know  it  as 
well  as  you  do,  yea  or  nay.  And  if  you  do  your  own  duty 
without  flinching,  your  opinion  will  have  weight  with  all 


S8  MEMOIR  OF  A  BBOTEEB.  [chap. 

whom  it  may  concern.  The  Doctor  evidently  thinks  you 
couhl  be  of  essential  use  to  him  if  you  liked,  and  I  am 
sure  he  is  much  too  fair  and  honourable  a  man  to  want  to 
make  spies  of  his  pupils.  If  you  do  not  back  him  in  what 
he  has  a  right  to  enforce,  you  pass  a  tacit  censure  on  a 
tnan  you  profess  to  esteem." 

George's    answer   produced    the    following  from   your 
grandfather : — 

"  I  like  the  tone  of  your  vindication  much.  It  shows 
the  proper  spirit  which  I  wish  to  cultivate,  and  a  correct 
sense  of  what  your  duties  are  as  a  member  of  society.  Be 
assured  that  I  hate  as  much  as  you  do  the  character  of  a 
talebearer  and  meddler,  and  a  fellow  who  takes  advantage 
of  a  little  brief  authority  to  gratify  his  own  spite  and  love 
of  importance.  And  in  my  reply  to  Dr.  Arnold  I  said, 
that  having  been  bred  up  on  the  system  of  '  study  to  be 
quiet  and'  mind  your  own  business,'  you  might  very  likely 
have  fallen  into  the  extreme  of  non-interference  ;  which  I 
thought  was  the  best  extreme  for  a  gentleman  to  follow. 
I  also  hinted  that  his  pets  might  not  be  quite  immaculate 
in  their  motives,  or  deserve  the  good  opinion  of  the  more 
gentlemanly  boys  of  their  own  standing,  who  had  a  right  to 
form  their  own  judgment  and  limit  tlieir  own  acquaintance, 
though  not  to  interfere  with  the  discipline  of  the  school. 
What  you  have  said  of  the  fellow  who  caused  the  expul- 
sion (rustication  I  should  call  it)  of  the  others,  confirms 
me.  His  conduct,  in  fact,  if  his  words  could  be  proved, 
deserves  a  round  robin  to  Arnold  from  the  school  ;  and  if 
vou  are  sure  it  is  so,  I  will  back  you  with  my  full  sanction 
in  cutting  any  such  malicious  rascal.  I  think  you  will  see 
after  this  that  I  do  not  speak  from  the  notions  of  a  pedant 
or  a  disciplinarian,  and  that  I  do  not  care  two  straws  how 


11.]  RTTGBT.  33 


you  stand  in  the  opinion  of  Doctor  this,  or  Doctor  that, 
provided  you  deserve  your  own  good  opinion  as  a  Christian 
and  a  gentleman,  and  do  justice  to  good  principles  and 
good  blood,  for  which  things  you  are  indebted  to  sources 
independent  of  liugby.  But  with  all  this  I  do  not  abandon 
my  position,  of  which  indeed  you  seem  convinced,  that 
order  must  be  enforced  at  the  expense  of  disagreeable 
duties.  All  I  wish  is  this  :  put  Dr.  A.  out  of  the  ques- 
tion if  you  please,  and  enter  into  the  views  of  the  parents 
•of  the  junior  boys  as  if  they  were  your  own  family  friends  : 
with  this  view  you  will  not  only  protect  their  sons  in  their 
little  comforts  and  privileges,  but  steadily  check  those 
habits  in  them  which  might  render  them  nuisances  in 
general  society,  or  involve  them  in  scrapes  at  school.  After 
all,  Arnold  was  right  as  to  the  prevention  of  crackers  in 
the  quadrangle,  and  you  .ought  to  have  stopped  it ;  on  this 
point  you  say  nothing.  As  to  the  investigation  of  the 
image  matter  :  if  you  were  not  there  at  the  time,  you  may 
not  be  blameable  for  want  of  success,  and  if  they  expected 
you  to  pump  Tom,  or  employ  any  underhand  means  in 
getting  at  the  truth,  they  knew  but  little  of  your  family 
habits.  Albeit,  I  wish  the  thing  could  have  been  traced. 
It  was  mean  and  cowardly,  and,  if  it  happened  often, 
ruinous  to  the  character  of  the  school,  inasmuch  as  the 
fellows  did  not  step  forward  at  once  in  a  manly  way  and 
say,  '  We  were  certainly  wrong,  and  ready  to  pay  for  the 
cock-shy  ;  but  the  pan-ots  and  Napoleons  were  irresistible.' 
The  Doctor  would  have  laughed,  and  approved.  I  do  not 
wonder  he  was  sore  on  the  subject,  feeling  like  a  gentleman 

for  the  character  of  his  school,  as  Lord  B would  have 

done  for  the  character  of  his  own  parish,  had  a  stranger 
had  his  pocket  picked  in  it.  Nor  do  I  want  you  to  adopt 
all  his  views  or  partialities.  Only  suppose  yourself  in  his 
place  :  fancy  what  you  would  have  a  right  to  expect,  and 


40  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

remember  that  it  cannot  be  done  without  the  help  of  the 
prseposters.  This  you  seem  inclined  to  do,  and  you  may 
do  it  on  your  own  independent  footing,  looking  as  coldly 
as  you  please  on  any  clique  whose  motives  may  be  different 
from  your  own.  You  have  no  need  to  court  anybody's 
favour  if  you  cultivate  the  means  of  making  yourself  inde- 
pendent ;  and  if  you  only  fear  God  in  the  true  sense,  you 
may  snap  your  fingers  at  everything  else, — which  ends  all 
I  have  to  say  on  this  point.  '  Upright  and  downright '  is 
the  true  motto." 

I  believe  that  no  boy  was  ever  more  regretted.  Since 
he  had  been  in  the  sixth,  and  especially  in  his  last  year, 
when  he  was  the  Captain  of  Big-side  Football  and  third 
in  the  Eleven,  bullying  had  disappeared  from  the  school- 
house,  and  house  fagging  had  lost  its  irksomeness.  The 
House  had  regained  its  position,  having  beaten  the 
School  at  football.  He  had  kicked  the  last  goal  from 
"  a  place  "  nearly  sixty  yards  from  the  post.  The  tradition 
of  that  kick  was  handed  down  for  many  years,  and,  I 
remarked,  was  always  getting  back  some  few  yards ;  so 
that,  by  the  time  it  expired,  I  have  no  doubt  it  had 
reached  100  yards,  and  become  as  fabulous  as  many 
other  traditions.  His  rule  was  perhaps  rather  too  easy. 
The  loafers,  who  are  always  too  numerous,  had  a  much 
better  time  than  they  deserved ;  and  I  doubt  whether 
the  school-house  first  lessons  were  done  so  well  as  at 
other  times;  for,  instead  of  each  boy  going  off  to  his 
own  study  after  supper,  and  stern  silence  reigning  in  the 


II.]  RUGBY.  41 

passages  till  bed-time,  groups  of  bigger  boys  would  collect 
round  the  fires,  and  three  or  four  fags  in  one  study .  and 
thus  much  time  which  should  have  been  given  to  themes 
and  verses  was  spent  in  talking  over  football  and  cricket 
matches,  and  the  Barby  and  Crick  runs  at  hare  and 
hounds.  I  know  that  George  himself  regretted  very 
much  what  had  occurred,  and  1  believe,  had  he  had  a 
second  chance,  would  have  dealt  vigorously  with  the  big 
boys  at  once.  But  he  had  to  learn  by  the  loss  of  his 
exhibition,  as  you  will  all  have  to  learn  in  one  way  or 
another,  that  neither  boys  nor  men  do  get  second  chances 
in  this  world.  We  all  get  new  chances  till  the  end  of  our 
lives,  but  not  second  chances  in  the  same  set  of  circum- 
stances; and  the  great  difference  between  one  boy  and 
another  is,  how  he  takes  hold  of,  and  uses,  his  first  chance, 
and  how  he  takes  his  fall  if  it  is  scored  against  him. 

At  the  end  of  the  half,  Dr.  Arnold,  with  his  usual 
kindness,  and  with  a  view  I  believe  to  mark  his  approval 
of  my  brother's  character  and  general  conduct  at  the 
school,  invited  him  to  spend  part  of  his  holidays  at  the 
Lakes.  His  visit  to  Foxhow,  and  Yorkshire,  at  Christmas 
1839,  before  he  went  up  to  Oxford,  delighted  him  greatly. 
He  had  never  seen  a  mountain  before,  and  the  fact  of 
seeing  them  for  the  first  time  from  his  old  master's  house, 
with  schoolfellows  to  whom  he  was  warmly  attached, 
doubled  tis  pleasure.  I  have  only  room,  however,  for 
one  of  his  letters: — 


42  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 


"Foxijow,  Jan.  6th,  1840. 

"My  dear  Father  and  Mother, 

"  I  will  now  give  you  a  more  lengthened  account  of 
my  proceedings  than  I  did  in  my  last. 

"  Last  Saturday  week  I  reached  Ambleside,  as  you  know. 
As  I  was  following  my  luggage  to  Foxhow  I  met  Mrs. 
Arnold,  and  visited  Stockgill  force. 

"  Sunday. — I  did  nothing  particular,  although  it  was  a 
splendid  day,  and  we  saw  the  mountains  beautifully. 

"  3fo7idai/.  — Hard  frost.  We  went  up  Lufrigg,  the  moun- 
tain close  by  Foxhow,  to  try  if  we  could  get  any  skating, 
but  it  would  not  bear  my  weight.  I  and  Matt  Arnold  then 
went  down  to  a  swampy  sort  of  lake  to  shoot  snipes : 
we  found  a  good  number,  but  it  came  on  to  rain,  and 
before  we  got  back  from  Elterwater  (the  name  of  the 
lake)  we  were  well  wet  through. 

"  Twsday — Wednesday. — Eain — rain  ! 

"  Thursday. — AVe  were  determined  to  do  something,  so 
Matt,  Tom,  and  I  took  horse  and  rode  to  Keswick,  and 
we  had  a  most  beautiful  ride.  We  left  Lady  Fleming's 
on  the  riglit,  went  along  the  shores  of  Eydale  Lake,  then 
from  Rydale  to  Grasmere,  then  tlirough  the  pass  called 
High  Kocae  (I  don't  know  if  that  is  rightly  spelt),  leaving 
a  remarkable  mountain  called  the  Lion  and  the  Lamb  on 
the  right — then  to  Thurlmere,  leaving  Helvellyn  on  the 
right.  Thurlmere  is  a  beautiful  little  lake  :  there  is  a  very 
fine  rock  on  the  left  bank  called  Eavenscrag,  and  on  the 
riuht  Helvellyn  rises  to  an  immense  height.  Then  the  view 
of  Keswick  was  most  beautiful :  Keswick  straight  before 
us — Bassenthwaite  beyond  Keswick  in  the  distance ; 
Derwentwater  on  our  left — Saddleback  and  Skiddaw  on 
the  right,  one  2,780  and  the  other  3,000  feet  high,  and 
Helvellyn  (3,070  feet)  behind  us.     It  was  a  rainy,  misty 


II.]  RUGBY.  43 

day,  so  that  we  did  not  see  so  Piucli  as  we  might  have 
done,  and  it  was  only  at  odd  nionieuts  that  we  caught  a 
glimpse  of  Helvellyn  free  from  clouds,  but  we  were  lucky 
in  seeing  it  at  all ;  they  gave  us  such  a  dinner  at  the 
inn  (without  our  requiring  anything  grand)  as  would 
have  made  a  Southern  stare — all  the  delicacies  of  the 
season,  potted  char  among  the  rest — and  charging  us  only 
2s.  apiece. 

"  Fridcui. — Eainy.  Walked  into  Ambleside  to  see  ]\Ir. 
Cotton  oft'  by  the  mail,  and  afterwards  as  the  weather 
cleared  up  we  went  out  on  Windermere,  and  had  a  very 
pleasant  aftei'noon. 

"  Saturday. — A  fine  day.  Tom  and  I  determined  to  do 
something  'gordgeous,'  and  so  we  set  out  to  walk  up 
Helvellyn,  and  we  had  some  precious  good  walking  before 
we  got  up.  We  started  from  the  foot  at  a  quarter  past 
eleven,  and  reached  the  summit  at  a  quarter  to  one.  One 
hour  and  a' half, — pretty  good  walking,  considering  three- 
quarters  or  more  was  as  steep  or  steeper  than  the  side  of 
Beacon  HilP  which  we  slide  down.  Although  quite  warm  in 
the  valley,  the  top  of  the  mountain  was  a  sheet  of  ice,  and 
the  wind  blew  quite  a  gale.  It  did  not,  however,  prevent  us 
from  enjoying  a  view  of  nearly  fifty  miles  on  all  sides. 
We  saw  Windermere,  Coniston,  and  the  sea  towards  the 
south,  as  far  as  Lancaster.  Ulswater  close  on  the  north- 
east ;  Skiddaw  and  Saddleback  and  Bassenthwaite  Lake  on 
the  north  ;  on  the  west  the  range  of  mountains  in  which 
is  Scawfell,  3,1(30  feet,  the  highest  mountain  in  England. 
We  saw  into  Scotland,  Cumberland,  Cheshire,  Lancashire, 
and  Yorkshire.  It  was  a  most  splendid  day,  but  there 
was  a  sort  of  ndst  in  the  very  far  distance  which  prevented 
our  seeing  quite  as  much  as  we  should  otherwise. 
Helvellyn  on  the  side  towards  Ulswater  descends   in  a 

^  A  hill  in  Lord  Carnarvon's  park  at  Higliclere,  near  Newbury. 


44  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap 

precipice  1,000  feet,  and  a  long  narrow  ridge,  called,  I 
think,  Straddle  Edge,  from  its  narrowness,  stretches  o\it  at 
right  angles  from  the  mountain,  on  the  same  side.  There 
are  innumeiable  places  in  which  a  person  might  break  his 
neck,  or  be  frozen  to  death  without  help,  as  few  go  up  the 
mountain  at  this  time  of  the  year,  it  being  a  continual 
frost  up  there.  We  made  ourselves  very  comfortable  under 
the  lee  of  a  cairn,  or  heap  of  stones,  which  had  been  raised 
on  the  very  highest  point,  round  a  tall  upright  pole.  I  got 
up,  and  put  a  stone  at  the  top,  and  we  put  a  newspaper 
which  contained  our  grub  into  the  middle  of  the  heap, 
having  first  taken  out  a  quantity  of  stones  ;  how  long  it 
will  stay  there  I  don't  know.  We  then  proceeded  to  grub 
with  uncommon  appetite, — some  hard  '  unleavened  bread,' 
some  tolerable  clieese,  and  a  lot  of  the  common  oat-cake 
they  make  in  the  country.  We  had  some  good  fun,  loosen- 
ing and  rolling  masses  of  rock  down  the  precipitous  side 
into  the  '  Eed  Tarn,'  a  largish  bit  of  water,  and  into  the 
table-land  below.  We  then  came  home  by  Gresdale.Tarn 
and  Grasmere,  after  a  good  long  walk.  This  was  last 
Saturday. 

"  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Arnold  are  very  kind,  and  I  have  spent  a 
very  pleasant  week  here.  I  go  away  on  Tuesday  to  Escrick 
Park.  Next  Wednesday  week,  or  about  that  time,  I  shall 
start  for  London  again,  and  shall  be  with  you  about  the 
20th ;  till  which  time 

"  I  remain,  your  affectionate  son, 

"G.  E.  Hughes. 
"Love  to  all." 


The  ride  to  Keswick,  mentioned  in  this  letter,  is  alluded 
to  also  in  one  which  I  received  in  this  last  sad  month  of 


II.]  HUGBY.  45 

May  from  one  of  his  companions,  who  has  allowed  me  to 
use  it  for  your  benefit.  Its  natural  place  would  perhaps 
be  at  the  end  of  this  memoir,  but  I  prefer  to  insert  it 
here : — 

"  Haerow,  May  2Srd,  1872. 

"  My  deae  Hughes, 

"  I  had  seen  so  little  of  your  brother  George  of  late  years 
that  I  seemed  at  first  to  have  no  business  to  write  about 
his  death  ;  but  now,  as  the  days  go  on,  I  cannot  resist  the 
desire  of  saying  a  word  about  him,  and  of  asking  after  his 
wife  and  children.  Not  two  years  ago  I  had  a  delightful 
day  at  Offley  with  him — the  only  time  I  ever  was  there; 
and  all  I  saw  of  him  then,  and  on  the  very  rare  occasions 
when  we  met  by  accident,  confirmed  my  old  remembrance 
of  him — that  he  w^as  one  of  the  most  delightful  persons  to 
be  with  I  ever  met,  and  that  he  had,  more  than  almost 
anybody  one  met,  the  qualities  which  will  stand  wear. 
Everything  about  him  seemed  so  sound  ;  his  bodily  health 
and  address  were  so  felicitous  that  one  thought  of  his 
moral  and  intellectual  soundness  as  a  kind  of  reflex  from 
them  ;  and  now  it  is  his  bodily  health  which  has  given 
way!  His  death  carries  me  back  to  old  times,  and  the 
glory  and  exploits  (which  are  now  so  often  presented  so  as 
to  bore  one)  of  youtli,  and  strength,  and  coolness,  have 
their  ideal  for  me  in  what  I  remember  of  him,  and  his  era. 
His  taking  the  easy  lead  at  golf  latterly,  as  he  did  in  his 
old  days  at  football  and  rowing,  seemed  to  me  quite 
affecting.  Tell  me  about  his  poor  wife ;  and  what  children 
has  he  left,  and  what  are  they  doing  ? 

"  It  will  be  a  great  loss  to  you  too.  Do  you  remember 
our  ride  together  to  Keswick  some  thirty-two  years  ago  ? 
We  have  all  a  common  ground  in  the  past.  I  have  told 
Macmillan  to  send  you  a  little  book,  of  which  the  chief 


46  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

recommendation  is  that  I  believe  it  is  the  sort  of  book 
my  father  would  have  been  impelled  to  make  if  he  liad 
had  to  do  with  schools  for  the  poor.  My  kind  regards  to 
your  wife. 

"  Affectionately  yours, 

"  Matthew  Arnold." 

From  Foxhow  George  went  to  visit  another  of  his  most 
intimate  school  friends.  During  that  visit  he  gave  another 
proof  of  coolness  and  courage  of  a  rare  kind,  and  also 
of  his  sirgular  modesty.  We  at  home  only  heard  of  what 
had  happened  through  the  newspapers,  and  never  could 
get  him  to  do  anything  more  than  pooh-pooh  the  whole 
affair.  In  fact,  the  first  accurate  description  of  the  occur- 
rence came  to  me  after  his  death,  in  the  letter  to  his  sister 
which  follows.  It  is  written  by  the  schoolfellow  just 
referred  to : — 

"  DussELDORF,  June  4th,  1872. 

"My  deak  Mes.  Senior, 

"  Your  very  kind  letter  of  the  20th  May  has  just  reached 
me  here :  and  I  cannot  express  in  writing  one  tithe  of  what 
I  feel.  I  had  no  idea  of  the  news  it  had  in  store  for  me  ; 
for,  having  been  travelling  about  lately,  I  had  missed  the 
announcement  of  the  sad  loss  which  we  have  all  had ;  and 
so  your  letter  fell  on  me  as  a  thunderbolt.  Poor  dear  old 
George !  old  in  the  language  of  affection,  ever  since  we 
were  all  at  Rugby.  Oh  !  huw  much  I  regret  now  that  I 
never  found  lime  in  these  last  few  idle  years  of  my  life  to 
pay  him  a  visit.  And  yet,  to  the  brightness  and  pleasure 
of  my  recollections  of  him,  nothing  could  be  added.     To 


11.]  RVGBY.  47 

the  very  last  he  was  what  he  was  at  the  very  first :  a  giant, 
with  a  giant's  gentleness  and  firmness.  You  may  perhaps 
none  of  you  know  that  he  always  felt  sure  boating  was  too 
violent  an  exercise  for  anyone.  I  remember  well  (and 
now  how  sorrowfully)  one  conversation  in  which  he  told 
me  how  many  of  the  best  oars  had  fallen  in  the  midst  of 
apparent  healtli  and  strength.  How  little  did  I  then  think 
he  was  to  go  !  and  yet  I  recollect  I  carried  away  with  me 
from  that  conversation  an  idea  that  he  suspected  he  had 
hcHrt-complaint.     Was  this  the  case  ? 

"  But  1  will  not  trouble  yoii  to  write  out  to  me  abroad ; 
for  I  trust  I  may  soon  return  to  England,  and  then  I  shall 
take  the  lilierty  of  writing  to  ask  you  to  see  me  at 
Lavender  Hill. 

"  You  ask  about  his  stopping  the  horses  at  Escrick. 
It  was  in  1840  or  1841.  He  had  been  left  with  my  two 
eldest  brothers  to  come  home  last ;  and  whilst  these  two 
brothers  were  calling  at  our  York  Club,  George  was  left 
sitting  alone  in  the  carriage.  Suddenly  the  driver  fell  off  the 
box  in  a  fit,  upon  the  horses,  and  they  started  off.  George 
remembered  that  in  the  six-mile  drive  home  there  are  two 
right-angled  turns ;  so  he  determined  to  get  out,  run  along 
the  pole,  and  stop  the  horses.  The  first  time  he  tried  was 
in  vain  :  steadying  himself  with  his  hand  on  the  horses' 
quarters,  he  only  frightened  them  more ;  so  he  coolly 
returned  into  the  cairiage  again  and  waited  till  they  had 
lost  some  of  their  speed.  He  then  crept  through  the 
window  again;  ran  quicker  along  the  pole,  caught  their 
bearing  reins,  turned  them  round,  and  brought  back  the 
carriage  in  triumph  to  my  brothers,  who  were  anxious 
enough  by  that  time  !  And  then  the  gentle  modest  look 
he  had  when  we  all  praised  him  the  next  morning,  I  never 
can  forget.  Oh,  he  charmed  all :  a  better  creature  never 
lived. 


48  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

"Tell  his  boys  from  me  he  never  coiild  have  dreamt 
even  of  any  divergence  from  truth.  As  all  men  of  power, 
he  seemed  silent  and  receptive  rather  than  busy  ;  and 
where  you  left  him,  you  picked  him  up ;  though  the 
interval  might  have  been  ever  so  long  a  one. 

"  I  remain,  your  most  sincerely, 

"Stephen  W.  Lawley." 


CHAPTER  m. 

A  FATHER'S  LETTEBS. 

If  this  memoir  is  to  do  for  you,  his  sons  and  nephews, 
what  I  hope  it  may,  you  must  be  told  of  his  weak  points. 
You  have  seen  ah^eady  that  he  had  to  leave  school  half 
a  year  sooner  than  he  would  otherwise  have  left,  because 
he  was  too  easy-going  as  a  sixth-form  boy,  and  would  not 
exert  himself  to  keep  order ;  and  he  had  a  constitutional 
indolence,  which  led  him  to  shirk  trouble  in  small  matters, 
and  to  leave  things  to  manage  themselves.  This  fault 
used  to  annoy  your  grandfather,  who  was  always  exceed- 
ingly particular  as  to  business  habits,  such  as  answering 
letters,  and  putting  things  in  their  right  places.  When  we 
first  were  allowed  to  use  guns,  he  gave  us  special  instruc- 
tions never  to  bring  them  into  the  house  loaded.  At  the 
end  of  the  Christmas  holidays,  just  after  George  was  made 
a  praepostor,  we  brought  our  guns  in  loaded,  and  left  them 
in  the  servants'  hall  during  luncheon.  After  lunch,  when 
we  went  to  take  them  out  again,  by  some  carelessness 
George's  went  off,  and  he  narrowly  escaped  being  shot,  and 

£ 


50  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

the  cliarge  went  through  two  floors.  Your  grandfather 
said  notliing  at  the  moment,  but,  soon  afterwards,  George's 
neglect  to  answer  some  questions  on  business  matters 
produced  from  him  the  first  of  a  series  of  letters,  which 
certainly  did  us  much  good  at  the  time,  and  I  think  may 
be  just  as  useful  to  you.  Most  boys  have  the  same  kind 
of  faults,  and  I  cannot  see  that  any  of  you  need  such 
advice  less  than  we  did. 

"  Three  questions  I  put  to  you  in  recent  letters.  These, 
supposing  me  simply  a  common  acquaintance,  and  in  a 
position  to  ask  the  questions,  should  have  been  promptly 
answered,  and  it  is  but  reasonable  to  claim  what  is  due  to 
any  Mr.  Jones  or  Mr.  Jobson.  Without  self-command 
enough  to  be  punctual  and  methodical,  you  cannot  realize 
your  plans  as  to  more  serious  things  than  I  now  write 
about ;  nor,  indeed,  can  you  do  anything  effective  in  study 
without  it.  Read  as  much  as  you  will,  it  will  be  like 
filling  the  sieve  of  the  Danaids.  But  to  drop  fiae  meta- 
phors and  come  to  plain  English,  in  heaven's  name  begin 
to  be  wide  awake  to  the  common  exigencies  and  obser- 
vances of  life.  You  can  see  distant  and  abstracted  things 
well  enough  ;  but  in  such  common  things  as  are  under- 
stood and  practised  by  every  boy  behind  a  counter  who 
is  worth  his  salt,  you  aie  in  xAm  staie  of  a  blind  puppy  in 
the  straw.  I  do  not  speak  with  the  least  anger  on  the 
subject ;  but,  as  a  man  of  common  worldly  sense,  I  cannot 
too  pointedly  and  forcibly  urge  on  you,  that  without  a 
complete  alteration  in  this  respect,  everything  of  real  im- 
portance which  you  attempt  in  the  business  of  life  will  be 
an  absolute  failure.  You  swear  by  Scott.  Eecollect 
Athelstan  the  Unready.     He  gives  ample  proof  of  both 


III.]  A  FATHEll'S  LETTERS.  61 

high  valour  and  sound  sense,  and,  when  roused  from  his 
ruminative  state,  is  even  forcibly  eloquent  (\\'here  he  floors 
the  insolence  of  De  Bracy).  Yet  he  is  the  butt  of  tlie 
whole  piece,  because  he  is  always  ten  minutes  after  time  in 
thought  and  action  ;  albeit  lie  is  by  nature  a  finer  character 
than  Cedric,  and  twice  as  big  and  well-born.  But  every- 
one minds  Cedric  because  he  knows  his  own  will  and 
purpose,  and  carries  it  out  promptly,  with  the  power  of 
seeing  such  things  as  are  directly  before  his  nose." 

George's  reply  appears  to  have  contained  some  state- 
ment as  to  his  intentions  in  the  matter  of  reading,  as 
well  as  satisfactory  answers  to  the  neglected  questions. 
Your  grandfather,  however,  returns  to  the  charge  again : — 

"  I  fully  believe  you  have  every  desire  and  intention  to 
follow  up  the  course  I  wish,  though  your  own  experience 
in  the  vacation  must  have  shown  you  that  this  desire  is 
not  enough  unlei?s  backed  by  determination  and  method. 
I  should  riot  wish  you  to  debar  yourself  of  the  full  portion 
of  healthy  exercise  desirable  at  your  age,  which  is  like 
'  the  meat  aird  mass  which  hindereth  no  man,'  as  our 
quaint  old  English  expresses  it.  But  I  certainly  wish  you  to 
recollect  that  the  present  year"  [1838 — he  was  seventeen] 
"  is  one  of  the  most  important  in  your  life,  as  you  are  just  of 
the  age  when  tlie  character  forms  itself  one  way  or  the  other, 
and  when  time  becomes  valuable  in  a  double  degree.  You 
told  me  of  your  own  accord  that  your  wish  was  to  distin- 
guish yourself  at  Oxford.  If  you  are  as  certain  as  I  am 
that  this  wish  is  a  wise  and  desirable  one,  the  next  point 
is,  to  let  it  become  one  of  those  determinations  which  are 
only  qualified  by  '  Deo  volente.'  With  the  foundation 
which  has  been  already  laid,  the  thing  is  undoubtedly  in 

E  2 


52  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

your  power,  with  life  and  health  ;  and,  if  these  fail  us,  the 
fault  lies  not  in  ovirselves.  The  secret  of  attaining  any 
point  is,  not  so  much  in  the  quantity  of  time  bestowed 
on  it  at  regular  and  stated  intervals,  as  in  the  strong  will 
and  inclination  which  makes  it  a  matter  of  curiosity  and 
interest,  recurring  to  us  at  odds  and  ends  of  time,  and 
never  out  of  the  mind  ;  a  labour  of  inclination  rather  than 
a  matter  of  duty — a  chase,  as  it  were,  of  a  wild  duck  "  [we 
lived  close  to  a  river  where  wild  ducks  bred],  "instead  of 
a  walk  for  tlie  promotion  of  health  and  appetite.  This  sort 
of  interest  anyone  may  create  on  anything  he  pleases  :  for 
it  is  an  artificial  taste,  not  perhaps  so  easily  understood  at 
your  time  of  life.  .  .  .  Industry  in  one's  vocation,  when  an 
honest  and  creditable  one,  is  a  Christian  duty,  although 
followed  by  persons  indifferent  to  anything  but  self-interest. 
And  it  usually  pleases  God  so  to  dispose  of  the  course  of 
events,  tliat  those  best  qualified  to  be  useful  to  others 
in  their  generation  have  the  best  prospect  of  success  in 
it.  .  .  .  The  knowledge  of  history,  divinity,  and  the  dead 
languages,  which  you  are  now  acquiring,  are  the  basis  of  a 
liberal  education,  and  play  into  each  other  as  natiirally  as 
the  hilt  of  a  weapon  fits  the  blade  :  these  therefore  are  the 
])oints  of  leading  interest  in  your  life,  in  which  your  push 
should  be  made.  Composition  also  is  a  valuable  thing,  in 
Older  to  impart  clearly  to  others  what  you  know  yourself, 
and  prevent  your  candle  from  being  hid  under  a  bushel ;  and 
nothing  bears  a  higher  value  in  the  world  than  this  faculty. 
Mathematics  are  good,  as  they  strengthen  the  attention 
and  clear  the  head.  In  these  I  see  you  took  a  first  class, 
and  as  I  think  you  have  a  turn  for  them,  I  trust  you  will 
hold  your  present  footing  without  sacrificing  things  which 
hereafter  may  be  more  essential.  A  fair  progress  in  modern 
languages  is  not  to  be  neglected ;  but  the  great  points  of 
interest  are  such  as  I  have  laid  down,  viz.  knowledge  of 


ITI.]  A  FATHER'S  LETTEES.  53 

tlie  connexion,  and  Iciuling  features,  of  sacred  and  profane 
history  ;  a  true  digestion  of  it  in  your  head,  and  the  power 
of  clearly  expressing  wliatever  thoughts  arise  from  it ;  and 
a  critical  acquaintance  with  the  original  languages  from 
which  the  knowledge  is  derived.  This,  I  have  no  douht, 
will  correspond  with  Dr.  Arnold's  ideas  as  to  the  objects 
and  direction  of  study  in  your  case.  In  short,  make  up 
your  mind  what  you  will  do,  what  you  will  be,  and  what 
portion  of  success  you  may  fairly  hope  for  by  fairly  point- 
ing your  nose  to  the  desirable  end ;  then  keep  it  pointed 
there  as  steadily  as  the  pin  of  the  dial  ('  gnomon '  if  you  want 
to  be  learned).  And  remember,  that  ike  more  irksome  any 
liahit  is  in  its  formation,  the  more  pleasantly  and  satisfac- 
torily it  sticlxs  to  you  u-he7i  formed.  Order  and  clockwork 
in  small  things  is  what  you  w'ant.  Uxcmjoli  gratia,  the 
key  of  the  pew-box  gave  us  a  long  hunt  the  other  day,  till 
in  going  to  church  we  found  it  sticking  in  the  lock.     Then, 

none  of  you  ever  put  a  book  in  its  place  again.     N.  S 

docs,  because  he  learned  the  habit  from  compulsion,  and  it 
has  become  second  nature." 


"  DONNINGTON,    1839. 

"  Your  mother  and  grandmother  are  both  anxious  that 
some  destination  should  be  early  fixed  for  all  of  you;  but 
on  this  I,  who  am  more  answerable,  am  I'ather  cautious  ; 
feeling  that  much  depends  on  what  your  own  habits  and 
])redilections  may  be.  At  all  events  the  right  basis  of 
every  one's  education  is  this — to  love  God  and  your 
neighbour,  and  do  your  duty  with  diligence  in  whatever 
state  of  life  circunist-mces  may  place  you.  No  one  can 
live  in  vain  acting  on  these  principles,  and  whatever  tends 
not  to  their  establishment  is  of  very  trifling  importance. 
1  have  no  time  to  pursue  the  subject  further  at  present,  as 
this  is  a  busy  morning,  and  your  mother  will  want  a  good 


64  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [cHA?. 

share  of  this  paper.  I  have  begun  another  folio  to  Jack. 
N.B.  You  always  have  luck  when  I  hegin  a  letter,  as  I 
take  a  folio  sheet  in  tlie  spirit  of  foresight.  Wat  never 
brought  his  fishing-rod  in ;  he  is  old  enougli  now  to 
cultivate  orderly  liabits,  and  eschew  (not  chew)  mouse 
pie.  N.B.  Eschew  comes  from  Teutonic  schauern,  to 
shudder  at." 

Again  in  1840,  referring  to  this  indolent,  easy-going 
habit,  your  grandfather  writes  : — 

"The  temper  of  mind  which  I  mean  is  often  allied  (and 
in  your  case  I  trust  and  believe  it  is)  to  certain  qualities, 
good  in  a  social  and  Christian  sense :  candour,  good  nature, 
and  a  contented  spirit;  just  as  certain  peculiar  weeds  are 
frequently  tlie  indication  of  a  sound  and  wholesome  staple 
of  soil :  but  then  they  are  weeds,  and  it  is  a  Christian  duty 
to  eradicate  them  in  the  labourer  responsible  for  the  care  of 
the  soil.  In  this  respect  the  children  of  this  world  are  the 
wisest  in  their  generation.  We  may  sai'ely  take  examples 
of  skill,  activity,  and  abiding  interest  in  a  purpose,  from 
the  worst  and  most  seltish  men ;  and  those  who  are  wise, 
as  well  as  goctd,  do  take  the  example,  and  profit  by  it.  Not 
but  that  young  persons  coristitutionally  indolent,  if  they 
are  also  conscientious  in  their  duty  to  their  friends,  and 
correct  in  the  general  notion  that  industry  in  a  calling  is  a 
duty,  do  complete  tlieir  stated  hours  of  study  in  an  Ijonest 
and  competent  niannei*.  And  this  is  precisely  your  case  ; 
a  case  which  has  put  me  in  an  awkward  position  in  point- 
m<r  out  your  deficiencies.  It  is  an  ungracious  thing  to 
tease  and  spur  a  tractable,  good-tempered  horse,  who  trots 
his  seven  miles  an  hour  of  his  own  accord,  e^en  when  you 
know  that  he  lias  the  blood  and  power  in  him  to  go  up  to 
the  best  hounds  witli  due  traiuini^-,  and  it  is  hard  to  treat 


III.]  A  FATHER'S  LETTERS.  55 

one's  son  worse  than  one's  horse  (or  than  one's  servants,  for 
your  mother  truly  taxes  me  with  not  keeping  my  household 
tightly  up  to  their  duties).  These  deficiencies  nevertheless 
exist,  and  are  indicated  by  many  small  traits.  Now,  indo- 
lence in  my  sense,  and  as  applied  to  you,  is  exactly  in  the 
correct  sense  of  the  word — '  in '  (non)  and '  dolco'  viz.,  as  the 
Scots  say,  *  canna  he  fashed ' — cannot,  unless  led  by  some 
moral  duty,  or  exigence  of  society,  jump  upon  my  legs  and 
go  about  some  little,  teasing,  but  necessary  five  minutes' 
errand,  or  turn  my  mind  for  the  same  time,  by  a  sudden 
jerk,  to  something  which  breaks  up  the  prevailing  train  of 
thought.  This  is  a  constitutional  failing  of  my  own,  and  I 
have  been  forced  to  establisli  rules  in  some  things  to  break 
it  through.  But  I  never  was  tempted  by  it  so  as  to  leave 
anything  to  chance  where  any  favourite  project  was  con- 
cerned ;  here  I  expended  perhaps  too  much  accuracy  and 
double  diligence.  Hence  I  fear  the  evil  is  more  deeply 
seated  in  you.  The  last  example  is  this  : — On  inspecting 
and  laying  up  the  two  double  guns,  I  found  the  inside  of 
one  rusty,  the  other  black  from  careless  cleaning.  Now, 
no  thoroughbred  sportsman  ever  contents  himself,  when 
laying  up  his  tools  in  ordinary,  with  trusting  to  his  servant's 
care,  and  not  his  own  eye,  in  cleaning.  Yet  you  are  a  good 
shot — doubtless  because  you  like  shooting,  and  employ 
while  in  the  field  all  the  power  of  your  mind  and  body  to 
attain  your  purpose.  What  is  wanting  is,  the  submission 
to  dry  detail  {id  ipiod  dokt).  But  no  one  can  be  a  thorough 
and  etticient  master  of  anything  who  cannot  see  to  details. 
Bump  away  with  all  your  might,  and  welcome,  but  your 
labour  will  be  thrown  away  if  you  won't  submit  to  stop 
the  leaks  in  your  tub.  It  is  exactl}^  from  the  same  temper 
that  I  have  seen  you  take  up  a  book  in  company  when 
rather  dull.  True,  the  book  is  the  more  sensible  companion, 
but  the  time  and  place  prescribes  '  quod  dolet,'  though  not 


6S  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

SO  agreeable,  or  edifying.  Thus  it  is  in  fifty  things,  all 
arguing  a  want  of  that  order,  and  exactness,  resulting  from 
the  due  division  of  the  mind.  1  could  even  argue  it  from 
the  trifling  trait  of  your  never  carrying  a  tassel  to  wipe 
your  arrows  with,  and  leaving  your  books  open  on  the  table 
for  the  maids  to  spill  ink  or  dust  on.  I  can  prescribe  for 
you  in  future  in  these  respects,  if  you  will  trust  yourself 
to  me  cheerfully,  and  not  look  aguish  and  woe-begone 
when  spurred  up  to  the  mark  by  a  word  in  season." 

And  again  in  1842  : — 

"As  an  illustration  is  necessary  to  a  theme,  suppose  two 
garden  engines  of  equal  capacity,  one  leaky  and  loosely 
constructed,  the  other  well  staunched,  which  does  not 
waste  a  drop  of  water.  You  may  cobble  and  plug  up  the 
first  pro  tcm.,  and  by  working  it  with  a  strong  arm  make 
it  play  well :  anon  it  leaketh  again,  and  without  a  strong 
and  troublesome  effort  it  is  no  go.  The  second  is  tight  and 
compact  at  a  moment's  notice,  and  throws  its  stream  with 
precision,  just  as  much  as  is  wanted,  and  where  it  is 
wanted — 

(fxovdi'ra  <Tvi>€Totcnv. 

"  I  think  there  has  been  some  improvement  this  year  in 
your  briskness  and  precision,  but  there  is  room  for  more. 
Straws  show  which  way  the  wind  blows.  Videlicet,  the 
not  having  looked  in  the  calendar.^  Then  you  keep  your 
watch  with  your  razors,  and  never  can  tell  me  what's 
o'clock.  With  respect  to  your  capacity  for  giving  your 
might  and  main  to  a  subject,  when  you  are  at  it,  I  know 
enough  to  be  well  satisfied,  and  have  no  criticism  to 
make." 

^  As  to  sending  in  prize  exercises  at  Oxford.  A  copy  of  his  was  too 
late. 


rj.]  A  FATHER'S  LETTERIS.  57 

The  last  reference  of  this  kind  which  I  find  in  your 
grandfather's  letters,  which  were  always  carefully  preserved 
by  George,  occurs  in  1846.  After  referring  to  an  omission 
to  notice  the  transfer  of  some  money  to  bis  account,  your 
grandfather  goes  on : — 

"  Ijy  the  bye,  I  certainly  am  under  the  impression  that 
you  shrink  from  the  trouble  of  details  and  cares  of  this 
kind ;  the  same  impression  which  I  entertained  five  or  six 
years  ago.  You  must  yourself  know  best  whether  I  am 
right  or  not,  and  it  is  noio  of  importance  that  you  should 
candidly  ask  yourself  the  question,  and,  if  self-convicted, 
turn  completely  over  a  new  leaf,  on  account  of  having 
others  soon  to  act  and  manage  for,  as  master  of  a  house. 
I  need  hardly  tell  you  I  suppose  that,  in  all  points  of  para- 
mount importance,  your  character  has  formed  in  a  manner 
which  has  given  me  thorough  satisfaction,  and  that  your 
friends  and  relatives  have  just  reason  for  appreciating  you 
highly  as  a  member  of  society.  I  will  also  add,  and  with 
truth,  that  I  know  no  man  of  your  age,  who,  if  placed  in  a 
difficult  situation,  would  in  my  opinion  act  with  more  sense, 
firmness,  and  disci'etion ;  and  this  is  much  indeed.  But 
the  possession  of  a  naturally  decisive  and  intluential  cha- 
racter is  just  what  requires  digested  method  in  small  and 
necessary  things  ;  otlierwise  the  defect  is  more  ridiculously 
anomalous  than  in  a  scatter-brained  fellow,  whom  no  one 
looks  up  to,  or  consults.  It  is  a  godsend  if  a  beggar  is 
any  better  tlian  barefoot,  but  what  would  you  say  to  a  well- 
dressed  man  otherwise,  who  had  forgotten  his  feet,  and 
ca]ne  into  a  drawing-room  with  a  pair  of  greasy  slippers  ? 
Without  buttering  you  \\\),  yours  happens  to  be  a  character 
which,  to  round  it  otT  consistently  and  properly,  demands 
accuracy  in  small  and  iiksome  tilings.     In  some  respects 


58  MEMOIR  OF  A  BBOTEER.  [CH.  in. 

I  really  think  you  have  acquired  this ;  in  others,  are 
acquiring  it ;  and  have  no  doubt  that  when  ten  years 
older,  you  will  have  progressed  in  a  suitable  degree.  Mean- 
time, if  you  are  conscious  that  anything  is  wanting  in  these 
respects,  it  is  high  time  now  to  put  on  the  steam." 

As  a  slight  illustration  of  the  effect  of  these  letters,  I 
may  add  here,  that  to  the  end  of  his  life,  when  he  came 
in  from  shooting,  my  brother  never  rested  until  he  had 
cleaned  his  gun  with  his  own  hands.  When  asked  why 
he  did  not  leave  it  to  the  keeper,  he  said  he  preferred  its 
being  done  at  once,  and  thoroughly ;  and  the  only  way  of 
being  sure  of  that,  was  to  do  it  himself.  In  some  respects, 
however,  he  never  got  over  his  constitutional  love  of 
taking  things  easily,  and  avoiding  bother  and  trouble. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

OXFORD. 

My  brother  went  up  to  Oxford  full  of  good  resolves  as  to 
reading,  which  he  carried  out  far  better  than  most  men 
do,  altliough  undoubtedly,  after  his  first  vea.r.  his  popularity, 
by  enlarging  the  circle  of  his  acquaintance  to  au  iucon^ 
venient  extent,  somewhat  interfered  with  his  studies. 
Your  grandfather  was  delighted  at  having  a  son  likely 
to  distinguish  himself  actually  resident  in  his  own  old 
College.  In  his  time  it  had  occupied  the  place  in  the 
li^niversity  now  held  by  Balliol.  Copleston  and  Whately 
had  been  his  tutors ;  and,  as  he  had  resided  a  good  deal 
after  taking  his  degree,  he  had  seen  several  generations 
of  distinguished  men  in  the  common  room,  including 
Arnold,  Blanco  White,  Keble,  Pusey,  and  Hampden. 
Moreover,  there  was  a  tradition  of  University  distinction 
in  his  family  ;  his  father  had  been  Setonian  Prizeman 
and  Chancellor's  Medallist  at  Cambridge,  and  he  himself 
had  carried  off  tlie  Latin  verse  prize,  and  one  of  the  Eng- 
lish Odes  recited  before  the  United  Sovereigns,  when  they 


60  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

paid  a  visit  to  the  Oxford  Commemoration  in  1814,  with 
Wellington,  Bliicher,  and  a  host  of  tlie  great  soldiers  of 
that  day. 

His  anxiety  as  to  George's  start  at  Oxford  manifested 
itself  in  many  ways,  and  particularly  as  to  the  want  of 
punctuality,  and  accuracy  in  small  matters,  which  he  had 
already  noticed.  As  a  delicate  lesson  on  this  subject,  1 
find  him  taking  advantage  of  the  fact  that  George's  watch 
was  in  the  hands  of  the  maker  for  repairs,  to  send  him 
his  own  chronometer,  adding :  "  As  your  sense  of  trust- 
worthiness in  little  and  great  things  is  a  considerably 
multiplied  multiple  of  your  care  for  your  own  private 
property  (which  doubtless  will  grow  to  its  right  propor- 
tion when  you  have  been  cheated  a  little),  I  have  no 
doubt  old  Trusty  will  return  to  me  in  as  good  order  as 
when  he  left  me.  Furthermore,  it  is  possible  you  may 
take  a  fancy  to  him  when  j^ou  have  learnt  the  value  of  an 
unfailing  guide  to  punctuality.  In  which  case,  if  you  can 
tell  me  at  the  end  of  term  that  you  have,  to  the  best  of 
your  belief,  made  the  most  of  your  time,  I  will  with  great 
pleasure  swap  with  you.  As  to  what  is  making  the  best 
of  your  time,  you  would  of  course  like  to  have  my  ideas. 

Thus,  then" and  your  grandfather  proceeds  to  give  a 

number  of  rules,  founded  on  his  oyvn  old  Oxford  experience, 
as  to  reading,  and  goes  on  : — 

"  All  this,  you  will  say,  cuts  out  a  tolerably  full  employ- 
ment for  the  term.     But  when  you  can  call  this  in  your 


IV.]  OXFORD.  61 

recollections, '  terminus  alba  cretd  notandus,'  it  will  be  worth 
trouble.  I  believe  the  intentions  of  most  freshmen  are  good, 
and  the  lirst  term  generally  well  spent :  the  second  and  third 
are  often  the  trial,  when  one  gets  confidence  in  oneself; 
and  the  sense  of  what  is  right  and  honourable  must  come 
in  place  of  that  deference  for  one's  superior  officers,  which 
is  at  first  instinctive.  I  am  glad  you  find  you  can  do  as 
you  please,  and  choose  your  own  society  without  making 
yourself  at  all  remarkable.  So  I  found,  for  the  same 
reasons  that  facilitate  the  matter  to  you.  Domestic  or 
private  education,  I  believe,  throws  more  diificulties  in 
the  way  of  saying  '  No  '  when  it  is  your  pleasure  so  to  do, 
and  the  poor  wight  only  gets  laughed  at  instead  of  culti- 
vated. After  all,  one  may  have  too  many  acquaintance, 
unexceptionable  though  they  be.  But  I  do  not  know  that 
much  loss  of  time  can  occur  to  a  person  of  perfectly  sober 
habits,  as  you  are,  if  he  leaves  wine  parties  with  a  clear 
head  at  chapel  time,  and  eschew^s  supping  and  lounging, 
and  lunching  and  gossiping,  and  tooling  in  High  Street, 
and  such  matters,  which  belong  more  to  particular  cliques 
than  to  a  generally  extended  acquaintance  in  Cohege.  In 
all  these  things,  going  not  as  a  raw  lad,  but  as  a  man 
of  nineteen,  with  my  father's  entire  confidence,  I  found  I 
could  settle  the  thing  to  my  satisfaction  in  no  time:  your 
circumstances  are  precisely  the  same,  and  the  result  will 
probably  be  the  same.  1  applaud,  and  KvSl^e,  and  clap  you 
on  the  back  for  rowing:  row,  box,  fence,  and  walk  with  all 
possible  sturdiness.  Another  thing  :  I  believe  an  idea  pre- 
vails that  it  is  necfssnry  to  ride  sometimes,  to  show  yourself 
of  equestrian  rank.  If  you  have  any  mind  this  way,  write 
to  Franklin  to  send  Stevens  with  your  horse  ;  keep  him 
a  few  weeks,  and  I  will  allow  you  a  £5  note  to  assert  your 
equestrian  dignity,  now  or  at  any  other  time.  This  is  a 
better  style  of  thing  than  piaffing  about  on  hired  Oxford 


62  *  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

cocky-horses,  like  Jacky  Popkin,  and  all  such  half-measures. 
The  only  objection  to  such  doings  is,  that  you  certainly  do 
bee  a  style  of  men  always  across  a  horse  who  are  fit  for 
nothing  else,  and  non  constat  that  they  always  know  a 
hock  from  a  stifle-joint.  But  this  is  only  per  accidens. 
And  if  you  have  a  fancy  for  an  occasional  freak  this  way, 
remember  I  was  bred,  in  the  saddle,  and,  whatever  my 
present  opinions  may  be  from  longer  experience,  can  fully 
enter  into  your  ideas." 

You  will  see  by  his  answer  how  readily  George  entered 
into  some  of  his  father's  ideas,  though  I  don't  think  he 
ever  sent  for  his  horse.  A  few  weeks  later,  in  1841,  he 
writes  : — 

"  Now  to  answer  your  last  letters.  I  shall  be  delighted 
to  accept  you  as  my  prime  minister  for  the  next  two  years. 
Any  plan  of  reading  which  you  chalk  out  for  me  I  think  I 
shall  be  able  to  pursue— at  least  I  am  sure  I  will  try  to  do 
so.  lien  reading  for  honours  now  generally  emj)loy  *  a 
coach.'  If  you  will  condescend  to  be  my  coach,  I  will  try 
to  answer  to  the  wliip  to  the  best  of  my  power," 

Your  grandfather  accepted  the  post  with  great  pleasure ; 
and  there  are  a  number  of  his  letters,  full  of  hints  and 
directions  as  to  study,  which  I  hope  you  may  all  read 
some  day,  but  which  would  make  this  memoir  too  long. 
You  will  see  later  on  how  well  satisfied  he  was  with  the 
general  result,\hough  in  one  or  two  instances  he  had  sad 
disappointments  to  bear,  as  most  fathers  have  who  are 
anxious  about  their  sons'  work.     The  first  of  these  hap- 


IV.]  OXFORD.  63 

pened  this  year.  He  was  specially  anxious  that  George 
should  write  for  the  Latin  Verse,  which  prize  he  himself 
had  won.  Accordingly  George  wrote  in  his  first  year, 
hut,  instead  of  taking  his  poem  himseK  to  the  Proctor's 
when  he  had  finished  it,  left  it  with  his  College  tutor  to 
send  in.  The  consequence  was,  it  was  forgotten  till  after 
the  last  day  for  delivery,  and  so  could  not  be  received. 
This  was  a  sad  trial  to  your  grandfather,  both  because  he 
had  been  very  sanguine  as  to  the  result,  and  because  here 
was  another  instance  of  George's  carelessness  about  his 
own  affairs,  and  want  of  punctuality  in  small  things. 
However,  he  wrote  so  kindly  about  it,  that  George  was 
more  annoyed  than  if  lie  had  been  very  angry,  and  set 
to  work  on  the  poem  for  the  next  year  as  soon  as  the 
subject  was  announced,  which  I  remember  was  "  Noachi 
Diluvnim."  You  may  be  sure  that  now  the  poem  went 
in  in  good  time,  but  in  due  course  the  Examiners  an- 
nounced that  no  prize  would  be  given  for  the  year.  I  do 
not  know  that  any  reason  was  ever  given  for  this  unusual 
course,  which  surprised  everyone,  as  it  was  known  that 
several  very  good  scholars,  including,  I  believe,  the  late 
Head-master  of  Marlborough,  had  been  amongst  the  com- 
petitors. Your  grandfather  was  very  much  vexed.  He 
submitted  George's  poem  to  two  of  his  old  college  friends, 
Dean  Milman  and  Bishop  Lonsdale,  both  of  whom  had 
been  Latin  prizemen  ;  and,  when  they  expressed  an  opinion 
that,  in  default  of  better  copies  of  verses,  these  should 


64  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

have   been   entitled  to  the  prize,  he   had  them  printed, 
with  the  following  heading : — 

"  The  refusal  of  the  Official  Committee  of  Examiners 
to  award  any  prize  for  the  Oxford  Latin  verse  of  1842, 
has  naturally  led  to  a  supposition  that  the  scholarship  and 
intelligence  of  the  competitors  has  fallen  short  of  the 
usual  standard.  Having,  however,  perused  the  following 
copy  of  verses,  which  are  probably  a  fair  specimen  of  those 
sent  in,  I  am  inclined  to  think,  as  a  graduate  and  some- 
what conversant  with  such  subjects,  that  this  discou- 
raging inference  is  unfounded,  and  that  the  committee 
have  been  intiuenced  in  their  discretion  by  some  unex- 
plained reason,  involving  no  reflection  on  the  candidates 
for  the  prize,  as  compared  with  those  of  former  years." 

The  real  fact  I  believe  to  have  been,  so  far  as  George 
was  concerned,  that  there  were  two  false  quantities  in 
his  verses ;  and  though  these  were  so  palpable,  as  your 
grandfather  remarked,  "  as  to  be  obvious  to  any  fifth-form 
boy,  and  plainly  due  to  carelessness  in  transcription,  and 
want  of  revision  by  a  second  person,"  the  Examiners 
were  clearly  not  bound  to  make  allowances  for  such 
carelessness. 

Many  years  after,  in  a  letter  to  his  sister,  on  some  little 
success  of  her  boy  at  Eugby,  George  writes  : — 

"  I  congratulate  you  on  Walter's  success.  We  are  much 
more  interested  for  our  brats  than  we  were  for  ourselves. 
T  remember  how  miserable  my  poor  father  made  himself 
once  when  I  did  not  get  a  Latin  Verse  prize  at  Oxford,  and 


IV.]  OXFORD.  65 

how  mucli  more  sorry  I  was  for  him  than  for  myself.  Any- 
how, there  is  no  pleasure  equal  to  seeing  one's  children 
distinguish  themselves — it  makes  one  young  again." 

But  I  must  return  to  his  freshman's  year  at  Oxford. 

I  have  told  you  already  that  this  was  our  first  separa- 
tion of  any  length.  I  did  not  see  him  from  the  day  he 
went  to  Oxford  in  January  until  our  Paigby  Eleven  went 
up  to  Lords,  at  the  end  of  the  half-year,  for  the  match  with 
the  M.C.C.  It  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  played  there, 
and  of  course  I  was  very  full  of  it,  and  fancied  the  match 
the  most  important  event  which  was  occurring  in  England 
at  the  time.  One  of  our  Eleven  did  not  turn  up,  and 
George  was  allowed  to  play  for  us.  He  was,  as  usual,  a 
tower  of  strength  in  a  boys'  Eleven,  because  you  could 
rely  on  his  nerve.  When  the  game  was  going  badly,  he 
was  always  put  in  to  keep  up  his  wicket,  and  very  seldom 
failed  to  do  it.  On  this  occasion  we  were  in  together,  and 
he  made  a  long  score,  but,  I  thought,  did  not  play  quite  in 
his  usual  style ;  and  on  talking  the  matter  over  with  him 
when  we  got  home,  I  found  that  he  had  not  been  playing 
at  Oxford,  but  had  taken  to  boating. 

I  expressed  my  sorrow  at  this,  and  spoke  disparagingly 
of  boating,  of  which  I  knew  nothing  whatever.  We  cer- 
tainly had  a  punt  in  the  stream  at  home,  but  it  was  too 
narrow  for  oars,  and  I  scarcely  knew  a  stretcher  from  a 
rowlock.  He  declared  that  he  was  as  fond  of  cricket  as 
fever,  but  that  in  the  whole  range  of  sport,  even  including 


66  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

hunting,  there  was  no  excitement  like  a  good  neck-and- 
neck  boat-race,  and  that  I  should  come  to  think  so  too.  » 
At  this  time  his  boating  career  had  only  just  begun, 
and  rowing  was  rather  at  a  discount  at  Oxford.  For 
several  years  Cambridge  had  had  their  own  way  with  the 
dark  blues,  notably  in  this  very  year  of  1841.  But  a 
radical  reformer  had  just  appeared  at  Oxford,  whose  in- 
fluence has  lasted  to  the  present  day,  and  to  whom  the 
substitution  of  the  long  stroke  with  sharp  catch  at  the 
beginning  (now  universally  accepted  as  the  only  true  form) 
for  the  short,  digging  "waterman's"  stroke,  as  it  used  to  be 
called,  is  chiefly  due.  This  was  Fletcher  Menzies,  then 
captain  of  the  University  College  boat.  He  had  already 
begiin  to  train  a  crew  on  his  own  principles,  in  opposition 
to  the  regular  University  crew,  and,  amongst  others,  had 
selected  my  brother,  though  a  freshman,  and  had  taken 
him  frequently  down  the  river  behind  himself  in  a  pair- 
oar.  The  first  result  of  this  instruction  was,  that  my 
brother  won  the  University  pair-oar  race,  pulling  stroke 
to  another  fresliman  of  his  own  college. 

In  IMiohaelmas  Term,  1841,  it  became  clear  to  all  judges 
of  rowing  that  the  opposition  was  triumphant.  F.  Menzies 
was  elected  captain  of  the  0.  U.  B.  C,  and  chose  my 
brother  as  his  No.  7,  so  that  on  my  arrival  at  Oxford  in 
the  spring  of  1842,  I  found  him  training  in  the  Univer- 
sity crew.  The  race  with  Cambridge  was  then  rowed  in 
the  summer,  and  over  the  six-mile  course,  between  West- 


IV.]  OXFORD.  67 

minster  and  Putney  bridges.  This  year  the  day  selected 
was  the  12th  of  June.  I  remember  it  well,  for  I  was 
playing  at  the  same  time  in  the  Oxford  and  Cambridge 
match  at  Lord's.  The  weather  was  intensely  hot,  and  we 
were  getting  badly  beaten.  So  confident  were  our  oppo- 
nents in  the  prowess  of  their  University,  that,  at  dinner  in 
the  Pavilion,  they  were  offering  even  bets  that  Cambridge 
would  win  all  three  events — the  cricket  match,  the  race  at 
Westminster,  and  the  Henley  Cup,  which  was  to  be  rowed 
for  in  the  following  week.  This  was  too  much  for  us,  and 
the  bets  were  freely  taken;  I  myself,  for  the  first  and 
last  time  in  my  life,  betting  five  pounds  with  the  King's 
man  who  sat  next  me.  Before  our  match  was  over  the 
news  came  up  from  the  river  that  Oxford  had  won. 

It  was  the  last  rnce  ever  rowed  by  the  Universities  over 
the  long  six-mile  course.  To  suit  the  tide,  it  was  rowed 
down,  from  IHitney  to  Westminster  Bridge.  ]\Iy  brother 
unluckily  lost  his  straw  hat  at  the  start,  and  the  intense 
heat  on  his  head  caused  him  terrible  distress.  The  boats 
were  almost  abreast  down  to  the  Battersea  reach,  where 
there  were  a  number  of  lighters  moored  in  mid  stream, 
waiting  for  the  tide.  This  was  the  crisis  of  the  race.  As 
the  boats  separated,  each  taking  its  own  side,  Egan.  the 
Cambridge  coxswain,  called  on  his  crew :  Shadwell,  the 
Oxford  coxswain,  heard  him,  and  called  on  his  own  men 
and  \A-hen  the  boats  came  in  sight  of  each  other  again  from 
behind  the   lighters,   Oxford  was   well  ahead.      But  my 

r2 


68  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [cHAP. 

brother  was  getting  faint  from  the  effects  of  the  sun  on 
his  head,  when  Shadwell  reminded  him  of  the  slice  of 
lemon  which  was  placed  in  each  man's  thwart.  He 
snatched  it  up,  and  at  the  same  time  F.  Menzies  took 
off  his  own  hat  and  gave  it  him ;  and,  when  the  boat 
shot  under  Westminster  Bridge  with  a  clear  lead,  he  was 
quite  himself  again. 

In  our  college  boat — of  which  he  was  now  stroke,  and 
which  he  took  with  a  brilliant  rush  to  the  head  of  the 
river,  bumping  University,  the  leading  boat,  to  which  his 
captain,  F.  Menzies,  was  still  stroke,  after  two  very  severe 
races — he  always  saw  that  every  man  had  a  small  slice  of 
lemon  at  the  start,  in  memory  of  the  Battersea  reach, 

Next  year  (1843),  owing  to  a  dispute  about  the  time,  there 
was  no  University  race  over  the  London  course,  but  the 
crews  were  to  meet  at  the  Henley  Regatta.  The  meeting 
was  looked  forward  to  with  more  than  ordinary  interest,  as 
party  feeling  was  running  high  between  the  Universities. 
In  the  previous  year,  after  their  victory  in  London,  the 
Oxford  boat  had  gone  to  Henley,  but  had  withdrawn,  in 
consequence  of  a  decision  of  the  stewards,  allowing  a  man 
to  row  in  the  Cambridge  crew  who  had  already  rowed  in  a 
previous  heat,  in  another  boat.  So  the  cup  remained  in 
the  possession  of  the  Cambridge  Rooms,  a  London  rowing 
club,  composed  of  men  who  had  left  college,  and  of  the  best 
oarsmen  still  at  the  University.  If  the  Cambridge  Rooms 
could  hold  the  challenge  cup  this  year  also,  it  would  become 


IV.]  OXFORD.  69 

their  property.  But  we  had  little  fear  of  this,  as  jNIenzies* 
crew  was  in  better  form  than  ever.  He  had  beaten  Cam- 
bridge University  in  1842,  and  we  were  confident  would 
do  it  again ;  and,  as  the  Eooms  were  never  so  strong  as  the 
University,  we  had  no  doubt  as  to  the  result  of  the  final 
heat  also.  I  remember  walking  over  from  Oxford  the 
night  before  the  regatta,  wdth  a  friend,  full  of  these  hopes, 
and  the  consternation  with  which  we  heard,  ou  arriving  at 
the  town,  that  the  Cambridge  University  boat  had  with- 
drawn, so  that  the  best  men  might  be  draughted  from  it 
into  the  Rooms'  crew,  the  holders  of  the  cup.  Those  only 
who  have  felt  the  extraordinary  interest  which  these  con- 
tests excite  can  appreciate  the  dismay  with  which  this 
announcement  filled  us.  Our  boat  would,  by  this  arrange- 
ment, have  to  contend  with  the  picked  oars  of  two  first- 
class  crews ;  and  we  forgot  that,  after  all,  though  the 
individual  men  were  better,  the  fact  of  their  not  having 
trained  regularly  together  made  them  really  less  for- 
midable competitors.  But  far  worse  news  came  in  the 
morning.  F.  Menzies  ha;!  been  in  the  Schools  in  the 
previous  month,  and  the  strain  of  his  examination,  com- 
bined with  training  for  the  race,  had  been  too  much  for 
him.  He  was  down  with  a  bad  attack  of  fever.  What 
was  to  be  done  ?  It  was  settled  at  once  that  my  brother 
should  row  stroke,  and  a  proposal  was  made  that  the 
vacant  place  in  the  boat  should  be  filled  by  one  of  Men- 
zies' college  crew.     The  question  went  before  the  stewards, 


70  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

who,  after  long  deliberation,  determined  that  this  could 
not  be  allowed.  In  consequence  of  the  dispute  in  the 
previous  year,  they  had  decided,  that  only  those  oarsmen 
whose  names  had  been  sent  in  could  row  in  any  given 
race.  I  am  not  sure  where  the  suggestion  came  from, 
I  believe  from  Menzies  himself,  that  his  crew  should  row 
the  race  with  seven  oars ;  but  I  well  remember  the  indig- 
nation and  despair  with  which  the  final  announcement  was 
received. 

However,  there  was  no  help  for  it,  and  we  ran  down  the 
bank  to  the  starting-place  by  the  side  of  our  crippled  boat, 
■with  sad  hearts,  cheering  them  to  show  our  appreciation  of 
their  pluck,  but  witliout  a  spark  of  hope  as  to  the  result. 
"When  they  turned  to  take  up  their  place  for  the  start,  we 
turned  also,  and  went  a  few  hundred  yards  up  the  towing- 
path,  so  as  to  get  start  enough  to  enable  us  to  keep  up 
with  the  race.  The  signal-gun  was  fired,  and  we  saw  the 
oars  flash  in  the  water,  and  began  trotting  up  the  bank 
with  our  heads  turned  over  our  shoulders.  First  one,  and 
then  another,  cried  out  that  "  we  were  holding  our  own," 
that  "  light  blue  was  not  gaining."  In  another  minute 
they  were  abreast  of  us,  close  together,  but  the  dark  blue 
flag  the  least  bit  to  the  front.  A  third  of  the  course  was 
over,  and,  as  we  rushed  along  and  saw  the  lead  improved 
foot  by  foot,  almost  inch  by  inch,  hope  came  back,  and  the 
excitement  made  running  painful  In  another  minute,  as 
they  turned  the  coiner  and  got  into  the  straight  reach,  the 


lY.l  OXFORD.  n 

crowd  became  too  dense  for  running.  "We  could  not  keep 
up,  and  could  only  follow  with  our  eyes  and  shouts,  as  we 
pressed  up  towards  the  bridge.  Before  we  could  reach  it 
the  gun  fired,  and  the  dark  blue  flag  was  run  up,  showing 
that  Oxford  had  won. 

Then  followed  one  of  the  temporary  fits  of  delirium 
which  sometimes  seize  Englishmen,  the  sight  of  which 
makes  one  slow  to  disbelieve  any  crazy  story  which  is  toJd 
of  the  doings  of  other  people  in  moments  of  intense 
excitement.  The  crew  had  positively  to  iight  their  way 
into  their  hotel,  and  barricade  themselves  there,  to  escape 
being  carried  round  Henley  on  our  shoulders.  The  enthu- 
siasm, frustrated  in  this  direction,  burst  out  in  all  sorts  of 
follies,  of  which  you  may  take  this  as  a  specimen.  The 
heavy  toll-gate  was  pulled  down,  and  thrown  over  the 
bridge  into  the  river,  by  a  mob  of  young  Oxonians 
headed  by  a  small,  decorous,  shy  man  in  spectacles,  who 
had  probably  never  pulled  an  oar  in  his  life,  but  who  had 
gone  temporarily  mad  with  excitement,  and  I  am  confident 
would,  at  that  moment,  have  led  his  followers  not  only 
against  the  Henley  constables,  but  against  a  regiment  with 
fixed  bayonets.  Fortunately,  no  harm  came  of  it  but  a  few 
broken  heads  and  black  eyes,  and  the  local  authorities, 
making  allowances  for  the  provocation,  were  lenient  at 
the  next  petty  sessions. 

The  crew  went  up  to  London  from  Henley,  to  row  for 
the  Gold  Cup,  in  the  Thames  Regatta,  which  had  just  been 


72  MEMOIR  OF  A  BtlOTEER.  [chap. 

established.  Here  they  met  the  Cambridge  Eooms'  crew 
again,  strengthened  by  a  new  No.  3  and  a  new  stroke,  and 
the  Leander,  then  in  its  glory,  and  won  the  cup  after  one 
of  the  finest  and  closest  races  ever  rowed.  There  has  been 
much  discussion  as  to  these  two  races  ever  since  in  the 
"boating  world,  in  which  my  brother  was  on  one  occasion 
induced  to  take  part.  "The  Oxford  University  came  in 
first,"  was  his  account,  "  with  a  clear  lead  of  the  Leander, 
the  Cambridge  crew  overlapping  the  Leander.  We  were  left 
behind  at  the  start,  and  had  great  difTicvdty  in  passing  our 
opponents,  not  from  want  of  pace,  but  from  want  of  room." 
And,  speaking  of  the  Henley  race,  which  was  said  to  have 
"been  won  against  a  "  scratch  crew,"  he  adds :  "  A  '  scratch 
crew '  may  mean  anything  short  of  a  perfectly  trained 
crew  of  good  materials.  Anyone  who  cares  about  it  will 
find  the  names  of  the  Eooms'  crew  at  p.  100  of  Mr.  Mac- 
michael's  book,  and  by  consulting  the  index  will  be  able 
to  form  a  judgment  as  to  the  quality  of  our  opponents. 
We  had  a  very  great  respect  for  them.  I  never  attempted 
to  exaggerate  the  importance  of  the  '  seven  oars'  race,'  and 
certainly  never  claimed  to  have  beaten  a  Cambridge  Uni- 
versity crew  on  that  occasion."  It  will  always  remain, 
however,  one  of  the  most  interesting  of  the  heroic  records 
of  a  noble  English  sport. 

He  announced  his  own  triumphs  at  home  as  follows, 
from  the  Golden  Cross,  where  the  Oxford  crew  then 
stopped  : — • 


IV.]  OXFORD.  73 

"  j\Iy  dear  Father  and  Mother, — I  should  have  been 
with  you  yesterday,  but  was  obliged  to  wait  because  they 
had  not  finished  the  gold  oars  whicli  we  have  won  at 
Putney.  We  have  been  as  successful  here  as  we  were  at 
Heule}^,  and  I  hope  I  shall  bring  home  the  cup  to  show 
you.  1  sliall  be  home  to-morrow,  and  very  glad  to  get  to 
Donnington  again.  I  don't  feel  the  least  unsettled  by 
these  proceedings,  and  am  in  an  excellent  humour  for 
reading." 

The  two  great  cups  came  to  Donnington,  and  remained 
for  the  year  on  your  grandfather's  sideboard,  who  could 
never  quite  make  up  his  mind  about  them ;  j)i'ide  at  his 
son's  extraordinary  prowess  being  dashed  with  fears  as  to 
the  possible  effects  on  him.  George  himself,  at  this  time, 
certainly  had  no  idea  that  he  was  at  all  the  worse  for  it, 
and  maintained  in  his  letters  that  pulling  "  is  not  so  severe 
exercise  as  boxing  or  fencing  hard  for  an  hour."  "  You 
may  satisfy  yourselves  1  shall  not  overdo  it.  I  have  always 
felt  the  better  for  it  as  yet,  but  if  I  were  to  feel  the  least 
inconvenience  I  should  give  it  uj)  at  once." 

One  effect  the  seven-oar  race  had  on  our  generation 
at  Oxford :  it  made  boating  really  popular,  which  it  had 
not  been  till  then.  I,  amongst  others,  was  quite  converted 
to  my  brother's  opinion,  and  began  to  spend  all  my  spare 
time  on  the  water.  Our  college  entered  for  the  University 
four-oar  races  in  the  following  November  Term,  and,  to 
my  intense  delight,  I  was  selected  for  No.  2,  my  brother 
pulling  stroke. 


71  MEMOIR  OF  A  BKOTHER.  [cnAr. 

Our  first  heat  was  against  Balliol,  and  tlirougli  my  awk- 
wardness it  proved  to  be  the  hardest  race  my  brother  ever 
rowed.  At  the  second  stroke  after  the  start  I  caught  a  crab 
(to  use  boating  phrase),  and  such  a  bad  one  that  the  head  of 
our  boat  was  forced  ahiiost  into  the  bank,  and  we  lost  not  a 
stroke  or  two,  but  at  least  a  dozen,  Balliol  going  away  with 
a  lead  of  two  boats'  lengths  and  more.  Tew  strokes  would 
have  gone  on  in  earnest  after  this,  and  I  am  not  sure  that  my 
brother  would,  but  that  it  was  my  first  race  for  a  University 
prize.  As  it  was,  he  turned  round,  took  a  look  at  Balliol, 
and  just  said,  "  Shove  her  head  out !  Now  then,"  and  away 
we  went.  Of  course  I  was  burning  with  shame,  and  long- 
ing to  do  more  than  my  vitmost  to  make  up  for  my  clumsi- 
ness. The  boat  seemed  to  spring  under  us,  but  I  could  feel 
it  was  no  doing  of  mine.  Just  before  the  Gut  we  were  almost 
abreast  of  them,  but,  as  they  had  the  choice  of  water,  we 
were  pushed  out  into  mid  stream,  losing  half  a  boat's 
length,  and  having  now  to  pull  up  against  the  full  current 
while  Balliol  went  up  on  the  Oxford  side  under  the  willows. 
Our  rivals  happened  also  to  be  personal  friends,  and  I 
remember  well  becoming  conscious  as  we  struggled  up  the 
reach  that  I  was  alongside,  first  of  their  stroke,  the  late 
Sir  H.  Lambert,  then  of  Xo.  3,  W.  Spottiswoode,  and  at 
last,  as  we  came  to  the  Cherwell,  just  before  the  finish,  of 
our  old  schoolfellow,  T.  Walrond,  who  was  pulling  the  bow 
oar.  I  felt  that  the  race  was  won,  for  they  had  now  to 
come  across  to  us  ;  and  won  it  was,  but  only  by  a  few  feet. 


IV.]  OXFOBD.  75 

I  don't  think  the  rest  of  ns  were  much  more  distressed 
than  we  had  been  before  in  college  races.  But  my  brother's 
head  drooped  forward,  and  he  could  not  speak  for  several 
seconds.  I  should  have  learnt  then,  if  I  had  needed  to 
learn,  that  it  is  the  stroke  who  wins  boat  races. 

Our  next  heat  against  University,  the  holders  of  the  cup 
was  a  much  easier  affair.  We  won  by  some  lengths,  and 
my  brother  had  thus  carried  off  every  honour  wliich  an 
oarsman  can  win  at  the  University,  except  the  sculls,  for 
which  he  had  never  been  able  to  enter.  I  cannot  remember 
any  race  in  which  he  pulled  stroke  and  was  beaten. 

There  are  few  pleasanter  memories  in  my  life  than  those 
of  the  river-side,  when  we  were  training  behind  him  in  our 
college  crew.  He  was' perhaps  a  thought  too  easy,  and  did 
not  keep  us  quite  so  tightly  in  hand  as  the  captains  of 
some  of  the  other  leading  boats  kept  their  men.  But  the 
rules  of  training  were  then  barbarous,  and  I  think  we  were 
all  the  better  for  not  being  strictly  limited  even  in  the 
matter  of  a  draught  of  cold  water,  or  compelled  to  eat  our 
meat  half  cooked.  He  was  most  judicious  in  all  the  work- 
ing part  of  training,  and  no  man  ever  knew  better  when 
to  give  his  crew  the  long  Abingdon  reach,  and  when  to  be 
content  with  Iffley  or  Sandford.  At  the  half- hour's  rest 
at  those  places  he  would  generally  sit  quiet,  and  watch 
the  skittles,  wrestling,  quoits,  or  feats  of  strength  which 
were  going  on  all  about.  But  if  he  did  take  part  in  them, 
he  almodt  always  beat  everyone  else.      I  only  remember 


76  MEMOIR  OF' A  BROTHER.  [chab. 


one  occasion  on  whicli  he  was  fairly  foiled.  In  consequence 
of  his  intimacy  with  F.  Menzies,  oiir  crew  were  a  great 
deal  with  that  of  University  College,  and  much  friendly 
rivalry  existed  between  us.  One  afternoon  one  of  their 
crew,^  E.  IMansfield,  brother  of  George's  old  vaulting  anta- 
gonist, rode  down  to  Sandford,  where,  in  the  field  near  the 
inn,  there  was  always  a  furze  hurdle  for  young  gentlemen 
to  leap  over.  In  answer  to  some  chaffing  remark,  Mans- 
field turned  round,  and,  sitting  with  his  face  towards  his 
horse's  tail,  rode  him  over  this  hurdle.  Several  of  us  tried 
it  after  him,  George  amongst  the  number,  but  we  all  failed; 
and  of  course  declared  that  it  was  all  a  trick,  and  that  his 
horse  was  trained  to  do  it  under  him,  and  to  refuse  under 
anybody  else. 

The  four-oar  race  was  the  last  of  my  brother's  boating 
triumphs.  At  the  end  of  the  term  he  gave  up  rowing,  as 
his  last  year  was  beginning,  and  he  was  anxious  to  get 
more  time  for  his  preparation  for  the  Schools.  I  am  not 
sure  that  he  succeeded  in  this  as,  strong  exercise  of  some 
kind  being  a  necessity  to  him,  ne  took  to  playing  an  occa- 
sional game  at  cricket,  and  was  caught  and  put  into  the 
University  Eleven.  He  pulled,  however,  in  one  more  great 
race,  in  the  Thames  liegatta  of  1845,  when  he  was  still 
resident  as  a  bachelor,  attending  lectures.  Number  6  in 
the  Oxford  boat  broke  down,  and  his  successor  applied  to 
him  to  fill  the  place,  to  which  he  assented  rather  un- 
1  Author  of  "  The  Log  of  the  Water  Lily,"  &c. 


nr.J  OXFORD.  77 

willingly.    The  following  extract  from  a  letter  to  his  father 
gives  the  result,  and  the  close  of  his  boating  career : — 

"  You  M-ill  have  seen  that  Oxford  was  unsuccessful  in 
London  for  the  Grand  Cup,  but  I  really  think  we  should 
have  won  it  had  it  not  been  for  that  unhicky  foul.  I  only 
consented  to  take  an  oar  in  the  boat  because  they  said 
they  could  not  row  without  me,  and  found  myself  well  up 
to  the  work." 

He  always  retained  his  love  for  rowing,  and  came  up 
punctually  every  year  to  take  his  place  on  the  umpire's 
boat  at  the  University  race,  to  which  he  had  a  prescriptive 
claim  as  an  old  captain  of  the  O.U.B.C.  And  this  chapter 
may  fitly  close  with  a  boating  song,  the  best  of  its  kind 
that  I  know  of,  which  he  wrote  at  my  request.  It  appeared 
in  Mr.  Severn's  "  Almanac  of  English  Sports,"  published  at 
Christmas  1868.  I  had  rashly  promised  the  editor  to  give 
him  some  verses  for  March,  on  the  University  race,  and 
put  it  off  till  it  was  time  to  go  to  press.  When  my  time 
was  limited  by  days,  and  I  had  to  sit  down  to  my  task  \u 
the  midst  of  other  work,  I  found  that  the  knack  of  rhym- 
ing had  left  me,  and  turned  naturally  to  the  brother  who 
had  helped  me  in  many  a  copy  of  verses  thirty  years  back. 
I  sent  him  down  some  dozen  hobbling  lines,  and  within  a 
post  or  two  I  received  from  him  the  following,  on  the 
March  Boat  Eace : — 


78  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

The  wood  sways  and  rocks  in  the  fierce  Equinox, 
The  old  heathen  war-god  bears  rule  in  the  sky, 

Aslant  down  the  street  drives  the  pitiless  sleet, 

At  the  height  of  tlie  house-tops  the  cloud-rack  spins  by. 

Old  Boreas  may  bluster,  but  gaily  we'll  muster, 

And  crowd  every  nook  on  bridge,  steamboat,  and  shore, 

"With  cheering  to  greet  Cam  and  Tsis,  who  meet 
Eor  the  Derby  of  boating,  our  f^te  of  the  oar. 

"Off  jackets  I" — each  oarsman  springs  light  to  his  seat. 
And  we  veterans,  while  ever  more  fierce  beats  the  rain, 

Scan  well  the  light  form  of  each  hardy  athlete. 
And  live  the  bright  days  of  our  youth  once  again. 

A  fig  for  the  weather  !  they're  off!  swing  together  ! 

Tho'  lumpy  the  water  and  furious  the  wind, 
Against  a  "  dead  noser  "  ^  our  champions  can  row.  Sir, 

And  leave  the  poor  "  Citizens  "  panting  behind. 

"  Swing  together ! "  The  Crab-tree,  Barnes,  Chiswick  are 
past ; 

Now  INIortlake — and  hark  to  the  signaling  gun  ! 
While  the  victors,  hard  all,  long  and  strong  to  the  last, 

Kush  past  Barker's  rails,  and  our  Derby  is  won. 

Our  Derby,  unsullied  by  fraud  and  chicane. 

By  thieves-Latin  jargon,  and  leg's  howling  din — 

Our  Derby,  where  "  nobbling  "  and  "  roping  "  are  vain, 
Where  all  run  their  best,  and  the  best  men  must  win. 

No  dodges  we  own  but  strength,  courage,  and  science; 

Gold  rules  not  the  fate  of  our  Isthmian  games ; 
In  brutes — tho'  the  noblest — we  place  no  reliance ; 

Our  racers  are  men,  and  our  turf  is  the  Thames. 

^  "  Dead  noser,"  the  Tyne  phrase  for  a  wind  in  your  teeth. 


w.]  OXFOBD,  79 

The  sons  of  St.  Dennis  in  praise  of  their  tennis, 
Of  chnses  and  volleys,  may  brag  to  their  fill ; 

To  the  northward  of  Stirling,  of  golf,  and  of  curling, 
Let  the  chiels  wi'  no  trousers  crack  on  as  they  will. 

Cricket,  football,  and  rackets — but  hold,  I'll  not  preach, 
Every  man  to  his  fancy — I'm  too  old  to  mend — 

So  give  me  a  good  stretch  down  the  Abingdon  reach. 
Six  miles  every  inch,  and  "hard  all"  to  the  end. 

Then  row,  dear  Etonians  and  Westminsters,  row, 
How,  hard-tisted  craftsmen  on  Thames  and  on  Tyne, 

Labuan,^  New  Zealand,  your  chasubles  ^  peel,  and 

la  one  spurt  of  hard  work,  aud  hard  rowing,  combine 

Our  maundering  critics  may  prate  as  they  please 

Of  glory  departed  and  influence  flown — 
Eow  and  work,  boys  of  England,  on  rivers  and  seas. 

And  the  old  land  shall  hold,  firm  as  ever,  her  own. 


1  The  Bisliops  were  famous  oarsmen.  Dr.  Macdougal  rowed  bow  oar  in 
Menzies'  boat,  and  was  a  dear  friend  of  my  brother's. 

■■^  Query:  Do  Bishops  wear  "chasubles]"— G.  E.  H.  [Note  appended 
by  my  brother  to  the  original  copy.] 


CHAPTER   V. 

DEGREE. 

The  Schools  were  now  very  near  ahead  of  him,  and, 
though  not  much  behindhand  with  his  work,  considering 
the  intensity  of  his  exertions  in  other  directions,  he  was 
anxious  to  make  the  most  of  the  months  that  were  left. 
He  read  very  hard  in  vacation,  but,  when  term  began 
again,  had  to  encounter  unusual  difficulties.  His  father's 
half-hinted  warnings  against  a  large  acquaintance  proved 
prophetic.  In  fact,  I  used  to  wonder  how  he  ever 
got  his  reading  done  at  all,  and  was  often  not  a  little 
annoyed  with  many  of  my  own  contemporaries,  and  other 
younger  men  still,  even  to  the  last  batch  of  freshmen, 
whose  fondness  for  his  society  was  unterapered  by  any 
thought  of  examinations,  or  honours.  Not  one  of  them 
could  give  a  wine,  or  a  breakfast  party,  without  him,  and 
his  good-nature  kept  him  from  refusing  when  he  found 
that  his  presence  gave  real  pleasure.  Then  he  never  had 
the  heart  to  turn  them  out  of  his  rooms,  or  keep  his  oak 
habitually  sported  ;  and  when  that  most  necessary  cei"e- 


v.]  DEGREE.  81 

mony  for  a  reading  man  had  been  performed,  it  was  not 
respected  as  it  should  have  been.  My  rooms  were  on 
the  same  staircase,  half  a  flight  below  his  (which  looked 
into  the  quadrangle,  while  mine  looked  out  over  the  back 
of  the  College),  so  that  1  could  hear  all  that  happened. 
Our  College  lectures  were  all  over  at  one.  It  was  well 
for  him  if  he  had  secured  quiet  up  to  that  hour ;  but,  in 
any  case,  regularly  within  a  few  minutes  after  the  clock 
had  struck,  I  used  to  hear  steps  on  the  stairs,  and  a 
pause  before  his  oak.  If  it  was  sported,  kicking  or 
knocking  would  follow,  with  imploring  appeals,  "  Now, 
old  'un  "  (the  term  of  endearment  by  which  he  went  in 
College),  "do  open — I  know  you're  in — only  for  two 
minutes."  A  short  persistence  seldom  failed  ;  and  soon 
other  men  followed  on  the  same  errand,  "  for  a  few 
minutes  only,"  till  it  was  time  for  lunch,  to  which  he 
would  then  be  dragged  off  in  one  of  their  rooms,  and 
his  oak  never  get  sported  again  till  late  at  night.  Up 
to  his  last  term  in  College  this  went  on,  though  not  to 
quite  the  same  extent;  and  even  then  there  was  one 
incorrigible  young  idler,  who  never  failed  in  his  "open 
sesame,"  and  wasted  more  of  my  brother's  time  than  all 
the  rest  of  the  College.  But  who  could  be  angry  with 
him  ?  ■  He  was  one  of  the  smallest  and  most  delicate 
men  I  ever  saw,  weighing  about  8st.  101b,,  a  capital 
rider,  and  as  brave  as  a  lion,  though  we  always  called  him 
"  the  Mouse."    Full  of  mother  wit,  but  utterly  unculti- 

G 


82  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

vated,  it  was  a  perfect  marvel  how  he  ever  matriculated, 
aud  his  answers,  and  attempts  at  construing,  in  lecture 
were  fabulous — full  of  good  impulse,  but  fickle  as  the 
wind ;  reckless,  spendthrift,  fast,  in  constant  trouble  with 
tradesmen,  proctors,  and  the  College  authorities.  But  no 
tradesman,  when  it  came  to  the  point,  had  the  heart  to 
"  court,"  or  proctor  to  rusticate  him  ;  and  the  Dean,  though 
constantly  in  wrath  at  his  misdeeds,  never  got  beyond 
warnings,  and  "gating."  So  he  held  on,  until  his  utter, 
repeated,  and  hopeless  failure  to  pass  his  "  smalls,"  brought 
his  college  career  to  its  inevitable  end.  Unfortunately 
for  my  brother's  reading,  that  career  coincided  with  his 
third  year,  and  his  society  had  an  extraordinary  fascination 
for  the  Mouse.  The  perfect  contrast  between  them,  in 
mind  and  body,  may  probably  account  for  this  ;  but  I 
think  the  little  man  had  also  a  sort  of  longing  to  be 
decent  and  respectable,  and,  in  the  midst  of  his  wildest 
scrapes,  felt  that  his  intimacy  with  the  best  oar  and 
cricketer  in  the  College,  who  was  also  on  good  terms  with 
the  Dons,  and  paid  his  bills,  and  could  write  Greek  verses, 
kept  him  in  touch  with  the  better  life  of  the  place,  and 
was  a  constant  witness  to  himself  of  his  intention  to  amend, 
some  day.  They  had  one  taste  in  common,  however,  which 
largely  accounted  for  my  brother's  undoubted  affection  for 
the  little  "  ne'er  do  weel,"  a  passion  for  animals.  The  Mouse 
kept  two  terriers,  who  were  to  him  as  children,  lying  in 
his  bosom  by  night,  and  eating  from  his  plate  hy  day. 


v.]  DEGREE.  83 

Dogs  ^ve^e  strictly  forbidden  in  Collepje,  and  the  vigilance 
cf  the  porter  was  proof  against  all  the  other  pets.  But 
the  ^Mouse's  terriers  defied  it.  From  living  on  such, 
intimate  terms  with  their  master,  they  had  become  as 
sharp  as  undergraduates.  They  were  never  seen  about 
the  quadrangles  in  the  day-time,  and  knew  the  sound 
and  sight  of  dean,  tutor,  and  porter,  better  than  any 
freshman.  When  the  ]\Iouse  went  out  of  College,  they 
would  stay  behind  on  the  staircase  till  they  were  sure  he 
must  be  fairly  out  in  the  street,  and  then  scamper  across 
the  two  quadrangles,  and  out  of  the  gate,  as  if  their  lives 
depended  on  the  pace.  In  the  same  way,  on  returning, 
they  would  repeat  the  process,  after  first  looking  cau- 
tiously in  at  the  gate  to  see  that  the  porter  was  safe  in  his 
den.  But  after  dusk  they  were  at  their  ease  at  once,  and 
would  fearlessly  trot  over  the  forbidden  grass  of  the  inner 
quad,  or  sit  at  the  Provost's  door,  or  on  the  Hall  steps, 
and  romp  with  anybody  not  in  a  master's  gown.  So,  even 
when  his  master's  knock  remained  unanswered.  Crib's  or 
Jet's  beseeching  whine  and  scratch  w^ould  always  brmg 
my  brother  to  the  door.  He  could  not  resist  dogs,  or 
children. 

I  have  always  laid  my  brother's  loss  of  his  first  class 
at  the  door  of  his  young  friends,  but  chiefly  on  the  Mouse, 
for  that  little  man's  delinquencies  culminated  in  the 
most  critical  moment  of  the  Schools.  The  Saturday 
before  paper  work  began  he  had  seduced  George  out  for 

G  2 


'84  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [cnAP. 

an  evening  stroll  witli  him,  and  of  course  took  him  through 
a  part  of  the  town  which  was  famous  for  town-and-gown 
rows.  Here,  a  baker  carrying  a  tray  shouldered  the  Mouse 
into  the  gutter.  The  Mouse  thereupon  knocked  the 
baker's  tray  off  his  head.  The  baker  knocked  the  little 
man  over,  and  my  brother  floored  the  baker,  who  sat  in 
the  mud,  and  howled  "  Gown,  gown."  In  two  minutes  a 
mol)  was  on  them,  and  they  had  to  retreat  fighting,  which, 
cwiug  to  the  reckless  pugnacity  of  his  small  comrade,  was 
an  operation  that  tried  all  my  brother's  coolness  and 
strength  to  the  utmost.  By  the  help,  however,  of  Crib, 
who  created  timely  diversions  by  attacking  the  heels  of 
the  town  at  critical  moments,  he  succeeded  in  bringing 
the  Mouse  home,  capless,  with  his  gown  in  shreds,  and 
his  nose  and  mouth  bleeding,  but  otherwise  unhurt,  at  the 
cost  to  himself  of  a  bad  black-eye.  The  undergraduate 
remedies  of  leeches,  raw  beef-steak,  and  paint  were 
diligently  applied  during  the  next  thirty-six  hours,  but 
with  very  partial  success  ;  and  he  had  to  appear  in  white 
tie  and  bands  before  the  Examiners,  on  the  Monday 
morning,  with  decided  marks  of  battle  on  his  face.  In  the 
evening,  he  wrote  home  : — 

"  j\lY   DEAK  FaTHEE, 

"  The  first  day  of  paper  work  is  over ;  I  am  sorry  to  say 
that  I  have  not  satisfied  myself  at  all.  Although  logic  was 
my  strongest  point  as  I  thought,  yet  through  nervousness, 
or  some  other  cause,  I  acquitted  myself  in  a  very  slovenly 


v.]  DEGREE.  85 

manner;  and  I  feel  nervous  and  down-hearted  about  the 
remainder  of  the  work,  because  I  know  that  I  am  not  so 
strong  on  those  points  as  I  was  in  logic.  I  feel  inclined 
myself  to  put  off  my  degree,  but  I  should  like  to  know 
what  you  think  about  it ;  1  could  certainly  get  througl^, 
but  I  do  not  think  I  should  do  myself  any  credit,  and 
I  am  sure  I  should  not  satisfy  myself.  I  shall  continue  at 
the  pajDer  work  till  I  hear  from  you.  I  should  be  very 
willing  to  give  up  any  plans  which  I  have  formed  for  the 
vacation,  and  read  quietly  at  home  ;  and  I  am  sure  1 
could  put  the  affair  beyond  a  doubt  with  a  little  more 
reading.  But  if  you  think  I  had  better  get  rid  of  it  at 
once,  I  will  continue.  1  am  in  very  good  health,  only,  as 
I  tell  you,  nervous  and  out  of  spirits. 

"Yours  affectionately, 

"G.  E.  Hughes." 

His  nervousness  was  out  of  place,  as  I  ascertained 
afterwards  from  his  tutor  that  the  Examiners  were  very 
much  pleased  with  his  paper  work.  Indeed,  I  think  that 
he  himself  soon  got  over  his  nervousness,  and  was  well 
satisfied  with  his  prospects  when  his  turn  came  for  vivd 
voce  examination.  I  was  foolish  enough  to  choose  the 
same  day  for  sitting  in  the  Schools,  a  ceremony  one  had 
to  perform  in  the  year  preceding  one's  own  examination. 
It  involved  attendance  during  the  whole  day,  listening  to 
the  attack  of  the  four  experts  in  row  at  the  long  table,  on 
the  intellectual  works  of  the  single  unfortunate,  who  sat 
facing  them  on  the  other  side.  This,  when  the  victim 
happens  to  be  your  brother,  is  a  severe  and  needless 
trial  of  nerves  and  patience. 


86  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

For  some  time,  however,  I  was  quite  happy,  as  George 
construed  his  Greek  plays  capitally,  and  had  his  Aristotle 
at  his  finger  ends.  He  was  then  handed  on  to  the  third 
Examiner,  who  opened  Livy  and  put  him  on  somewhere 
in  the  bewildering  Samnite  wars,  and,  when  he  had 
construed,  closed  the  book  as  if  satisfied,  just  putting  him 
a  cas\;al  question  as  to  the  end  of  the  campaign,  and  its 
effect  on  home  politics  at  Eome.  No  answer,  for  George 
was  far  too  downright  to  attempt  a  shot ;  and,  as  he  told 
me  afterwards,  had  not  looked  at  this  part  of  his  Livy  for 
more  than  a  year.  Of  course  other  questions  followed, 
and  tlien  a  searching  examination  in  this  part  of  the 
history,  which  showed  that  my  brother  knew  his  Arnold's 
Rome  well  enough,  but  had  probably  taken  up  his  Livy 
on  trust,  which  was  very  nearly  the  truth.  I  never 
passed  a  more  unpleasant  hour,  for  I  happened  to  be  up  in 
this  part  of  Livy,  and,  if  the  theories  of  Mesmerism  were 
sound,  should  certainly  have  been  able  to  inspire  him 
with  the  answers.  As  it  was,  I  was  on  the  rack  all 
the  time,  and  left  the  Schools  in  a  doleful  state  of  mind. 
I  felt  sure  that  he  must  lose  his  first  class,  and  told  the 
group  of  our  men  so,  who  gathered  in  the  Schools  quad- 
rangle to  see  the  Ilonours  list  posted.  The  Mouse,  on  the 
other  hand,  swore  roundly  that  he  was  certain  of  his  first, 
otiering  to  back  his  opinion  to  any  amount.  I  did  not 
bet,  but  proved  to  be  right.  His  name  came  out  in  the 
second  class,  there  being  only  five  in  the  first;  and  we 


v.]         '  DEGREE.  87 

walked  back  to  Oriel  a  disconsolate  band ;  the  Mouse,  1 
really  believe,  being  more  cast  down  than  any  of  the  party. 
I  never  told  liira  that  in  ray  opinion  he  was  himself  not  a 
little  responsible. 

He  was  obliged  to  take  his  own  name  off  the  books 
shortly  afterwards,  and  started  for  the  Cape,  leaving  Crib 
and  Jet,  the  only  valuable  possession  I  imagine  that  he 
had  in  the  world,  to  my  brother.  They  were  lovingly 
tended  to  a  good  old  age.  Their  old  master  joined  the 
Mounted  Eifles,  in  which  corps  (we  heard  at  second  hand, 
for  he  never  wrote  a  letter)  he  fully  maintained  his  character 
for  fine  riding  and  general  recklessness,  till  he  broke  down 
altogether,  and  died  some  two  years  later.  It  is  a  sad 
little  history,  which  carries  its  own  moraL 


CHAPTEE  VI. 
START    IN    LIFE. 

My  brother,  after  taking  his  degree,  remained  up  at 
Oxford  in  lodgings,  attending  lectures  ;  and,  when  I  went 
out  of  College  in  the  term  before  my  own  examination,  I 
joined  him,  and  once  again  we  found  ourselves  living  in  a 
common  sitting  room.  I  think  it  was  a  very  great  pleasure 
to  both  of  us ;  and  as  soon  as  my  troubles  in  the  Schools 
were  over,  and  the  short  leisure  time  which  generally 
follows  that  event  had  set  in,  we  began  to  talk  over  subjects 
which  had  hitherto  been  scarcely  mentioned  between  us, 
but  which,  on  the  threshold  of  active  life,  were  becoming 
of  absorbing  interest.  In  the  previous  autumn  I  had  made 
a  tour  with  a  pupil  in  the  North  of  England  and  Scotland. 
I  had  gone,  by  choice,  to  commercial  hotels  in  several  of  the 
large  northern  towns,  as  I  had  discovered  that  commercial 
rooms  were  the  most  likely  places  for  political  discussion, 
and  was  anxious  to  talk  over  the  great  question  of  that  day 
with  the  very  vigorous  and  able  gentlemen  who  frequented 
them.    The  Anti-Corn-Law  agitation  was  then  at  its  height, 


VI.]  START  IN  LIFE.  M 

and,  to  cut  a  long  story  short,  I  had  come  hack  from  the 
North  an  ardent  Freetrader.  In  other  directions  also  I  was 
rapidly  falling  away  from  the  political  faith  in  which  we  had 
been  hrought  up.  I  am  not  conscious,  indeed  I  do  not  believe, 
that  Arnold's  influence  was  ever  brought  to  bear  directly 
on  English  politics,  in  the  case  even  of  those  boys  who  (like 
my  brother  and  myself)  came  specially  under  it,  in  his  own 
house,  and  in  the  sixth  form.  What  he  did  for  us  was,  to 
make  iis  think  on  the  politics  of  Israel,  and  Eome,  and 
Greece,  leaving  us  free  to  apply  the  lessons  he  taught  us  in 
these,  as  best  we  could,  to  our  own  country.  But  now  his 
life  had  been  published,  and  had  come  like  a  revelation 
to  many  of  us;  explaining  so  much  that  had  appeared 
inexplicable,  and  tlirowing  a  white  light  upon  great  sections, 
both  of  the  world  which  we  had  realized  more  or  less 
through  the  classics,  and  the  world  which  was  lying  under 
our  eyes,  and  all  around  us,  and  which  we  now  began,  for 
the  first  time,  to  recognize  as  one  and  the  same. 

The  noble  side  of  democracy  was  carrying  me  away. 
I  was  haunted  by  Arnold's  famous  sentence,  "  If  there 
is  one  truth  short  of  tlie  highest  for  which  I  would  gladly 
die,  it  is  democracy  without  Jacobinism ; "  and  "  the 
People's  Charter"  was  beginning  to  have  strange  attrac- 
tions for  me. 

It  was  just  one  of  those  crises  in  one's  life  in  which 
nothing  is  so  useful,  or  healthy,  for  one,  as  coming  into 
direct  and  constant  contact  with  an  intellect  stronger  than 


90  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

one's  own,  which  looks  at  the  same  subjects  from  a  widely 
different  standpoint. 

jSTow,  in  the  Anti-Corn-Law  agitation  the  leaders  of  the 
League  were  in  the  habit  of  using  very  violent  language. 
Their  speeclies  were  full  of  vehement  attacks  on  the  land- 
lords and  farmers  of  England,  and  of  pictures  of  country 
life  as  an  inert  mass  of  selfishness,  tyranny,  and  stupidity. 
My  brother's  hatred  of  exaggeration  and  unfairness  revolted 
against  all  this  wild  talk ;  and  his  steady  appeal  to  facts 
known  to  us  both  often  staggered  my  new  convictions.  On 
the  general  economical  question,  imperfectly  as  I  under- 
stood it,  I  think  I  often  staggered  him.  But,  on  the  other 
hand,  when  he  appealed  to  the  example  of  a  dozen  land- 
lords whom  I  knew  (including  your  grandfather),  and  made 
me  look  at  the  actual  relations  between  them  and  their 
tenants  and  their  labourers,  and  ask  myself  whether  these 
statements  were  not  utterly  untrue  in  their  case  and  in  the 
county  we  knew ;  whether  they  were  not  probably  just  as 
untrue  of  other  counties ;  and,  if  that  were  so,  whether  a 
cause  which  needed  such  libels  to  support  it  could  be  a  just 
one,  I  was  often  in  my  turn  sadly  troubled  for  a  reply. 

Again,  though  Arnold's  life  influenced  him  quite  as 
powerfully  as  it  did  me,  it  was  in  quite  a  different 
direction,  strengthening  specially  in  him  the  reverence  for 
national  life,  and  for  the  laws,  traditions,  and  customs 
with  which  it  is  interwoven,  and  of  which  it  is  the  ex- 
pression.   Somehow,  his  natural  dislike  to  change,  and  pre- 


n.]  START  IN  LIFE.  91 

ference  for  the  old  ways,  seemed  to  gain  as  much  strength 
and  nourishment  from  the  teaching  and  example  of  our 
old  master,  as  the  desire  and  hope  for  radical  reforms 
did  in  me.  As  for  democracy,  not  even  Arnold's  dictum 
could  move  him.  "  The  Demos  "  was  for  him  always,  the 
fatuous  old  man,  witli  two  oboli  in  his  cheek,  and  a  wide 
ear  for  the  grossest  flatteries  which  Cleon  or  the  Sausage- 
seller  could  pour  into  it.  Those  of  you  who  have  begun 
Aristophanes  will  know  to  what  I  allude.  Now,  if  he  had 
been  a  man  who  had  any  great  reverence  for  rank  or  privi- 
lege, or  who  had  no  sympathies  with  or  care  for  the  poor, 
or  who  was  not  roused  to  indignation  by  any  act  of  oppres- 
sion or  tyranny,  in  the  frame  of  mind  I  was  in  I  should 
have  cared  very  little  for  anything  he  might  have  urged. 
But,  knowing  as  I  did  that  the  fact  was  precisely  the 
reverse — that  no  man  I  had  ever  met  was  more  indifferent 
to  rank  and  title,  more  full  of  sympathy  and  kindliness 
to  all  below  him,  or  more  indignant  at  anything  which 
savoured  of  injustice — I  was  obliged  to  admit  that  the 
truth  could  not  be  all  on  my  side,  and  to  question  my  own 
new  faith  far  more  carefully  than  I  should  have  done 
otherwise. 

And  so  this  was  the  last  good  deed  which  he  did  for  me 
when  our  ways  in  life  parted  for  the  first  time,  and  I  went 
up  to  London  to  read  for  the  Bar,  while  he  remained  at 
Oxford.  His  plans  were  not  fixed  beyond  the  summer. 
He  had  promised  to  take  two  or  three  Oriel  men  to  Scot- 


02  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

land  on  a  reading  party,  and  accordingly  went  with  tliem  to 
Oban  in  July ;  and,  while  there,  accepted  an  offer,  which 
came  to  him  I  scarcely  know  how,  to  take  charge  of  the 
sons  of  the  late  Mr.  Beaumont  at  Harrow,  as  their  private 
tutor. 

I  must  own  I  was  much  annoyed  at  the  time  when  I  heard 
of  this  resolution.  I  could  see  no  reason  for  it, 'and  many 
against  it.  Here  was  he,  probably  the  most  popular  man  of 
his  day  at  Oxford,  almost  sure  of  a  fellowship  if  he  chose  to 
stay  up  and  read  for  it,  one  of  the  best  oars  and  cricketer3 
in  England,  a  fine  sportsman,  and  enjoying  all  these  things 
thoroughly,  and  with  the  command  of  as  much  as  he  chose 
to  take  of  them,  deliberately  shelvi  ig  himself  as  the  tutor 
of  three  young  boys.  I  am  afraid  there  was  also  a  grain  of 
snobbishness  at  the  bottom  of  my  dislike  to  the  arrange 
ment.  Private  tutors  were  looked  upon  then  by  young 
men — I  hope  it  is  so  no  longer — as  a  sort  of  upper  ser- 
vants ;  and  I  was  weak  enough,  notwithstanding  my  newly 
acquired  liberalism,  to  regard  this  move  of  George's  as  a 
sort  of  loss  of  caste.  He  was  my  eldest  brother,  and  I  was 
very  fond  and  proud  of  him.  I  was  sure  he  would  dis- 
tinguish himself  in  any  profession  he  chose  to  follow,  while 
there  was  no  absolute  need  of  his  following  any ;  and  it 
provoked  me  to  think  of  his  making  what  I  thought  a 
false  move,  and  throwing  away  some  of  the  best  years  of 
his  life. 

However,  I  knew  it  was  useless  to  remonstrate,  as  he  had 


VT.]  STAET  Ia\  LIFK 


made  up  his  mind,  and  so  held  my  tongue,  and  came  to  see 
that  he  was  quite  right.  It  was  not  till  nearly  three  years 
later,  when  his  engagement  was  over  and  he  had  entered  at 
Doctors'  Commons,  that  I  came  to  understand  and  appre- 
ciate liis  motives.  The  first  of  these  you  may  gather  from 
the  following  extract  from  a  letter  of  your  grandfather's, 
dated  February  23rd,  1849  : — "  George,  it  seems,  is  un- 
usually lively  at  the  idea  of  going  tooth  and  nail  to  woi'k 
with  men  instead  of  boys  ;  and,  now  that  he  has  for  three 
years  gratified  his  whim  of  keeping  himself  wholly  off  my 
hands,  consents  to  be  assisted  like  his  brothers."  This 
"whim"  of  proving  to  his  own  satisfaction  that  he  was 
worth  his  keep,  and  could  make  his  own  living,  is  not  a 
very  usual  one  nowadays,  when  most  young  Englishmen 
seem  to  assume  that  they  have  a  natural  right  to  mainte- 
nance at  the  expense  of  some  one.  He  had  then  six  other 
brothers,  on  whom  the  example  was  not  altogether  thrown 
away,  though  none  of  us  were  ever  able  quite  to  come  up 
to  it.  It  had  the  effect,  however,  of  making  us  thoughtful 
in  the  matter  of  expenditure ;  and,  consequently,  of  the 
four  who  went  to  the  universities,  and  two  who  entered  the 
army,  not  one  got  into  any  money  difficulties. 

But  George  had  other  motives  for  this  step  besides  the 
"  whim"  of  independence.  He  wished  for  leisure  to  make 
up  his  mind  whether  he  should  take  holy  orders,  as  he  had 
at  one  time  intended  to  do.  And,  since  leaving  Eugby,  he 
had  had  no  time  either  for  the  study  of  modern  languages 


94  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

or  for  general  reading,  and  he  was  anxious  to  make  up  his 
arrears  in  both  of  these  directions.  This  engagement 
would  give  hira  the  leisure  he  wanted,  while  keeping 
him  at  regular  routine  work.  His  resolve,  though  taken 
at  the  risk  of  throwing  himself  back  some  years  in  his 
future  profession,  whatever  that  might  be,  was  thoroughly 
characteristic  of  him,  and  owincr  I  think,  in  srreat  measure 
to  your  grandfather's  own  precepts.  He  was  fond  of  telling 
us  family  stories,  and  there  was  none  of  these  of  which  he 
was  more  proud  than  that  of  his  maternal  great- grand- 
mother. This  good  lady  was  the  widow  of  George  Watts, 
Vicar  of  Uffington,  a  younger  son  himself,  who  died  at  the 
age  of  forty-two,  leaving  her  in  very  poor  circumstances. 
She  sold  off  everything,  and  invested  the  proceeds  iu 
stocking  a  lai-ge  dairy  farm  in  the  village  where  she  had 
lived  as  the  great  lady,  there  being  no  resident  squire  in 
the  parish.  If  any  of  yon  ever  care  to  make  a  pilgrimage 
to  the  place,  you  will  find  the  farmhouse,  which  she 
occupied  nearly  200  years  ago,  close  to  the  fish-pond 
in  Uffington.  She  was  well  connected,  and  her  friends 
tried  to  persuade  her  not  to  give  up  her  old  habits  ;  but 
she  steadily  refused  all  visiting,  though  she  was  glad  to 
give  them  a  cup  of  chocolate,  or  the  like,  when  they 
chose  to  call  on  her.  By  attending  to  her  business,  rising 
early  and  working  late,  she  managed  to  portion  her 
daughter,  ,and  give  her  son  a  Cambridge  education,  by 
which  he  profited,  and  died  Master  of  the  Temple,  where 


VI.]  START  IN  LIFE.  95 

you  may  see  liis  monument.  He  was  true  to  his  mother's 
training,  and  sacrificed  good  chances  of  further  preferment, 
by  preaching  a  sermon  at  Whitehall  before  George  11. 
and  his  mistress,  on  Court  vices,  on  the  text,  "And 
Nathan  said  unto  David,  Thou  art  the  man."  Such  stories, 
drunk  in  by  a  boy  of  a  quiet,  self-contained,  thorough 
nature,  were  sure  to  have  their  effect;  and  this  "whim"  of 
George's  was  one  of  their  first-fruits  in  his  case.  I  must 
add,  that  there  is  no  family  tradition  which  I  would  sooner 
see  grow  into  an  article  of  faith  with  all  of  you  than  this 
of  thriftiness,  and  independence,  as  points  of  honour.  So 
long  as  you  are  in  statu  23i(2nllari,  of  course  you  must  live 
at  the  expense  of  your  friends ;  but  you  may  do  so  either 
honestly,  or  dishonestly.  A  boy,  or  young  man,  born  and 
bred  a  gentleman,  ought  to  feel  that  there  is  an  honourable 
contract  between  him  and  his  friends ;  their  part  being  to 
pay  his  bills,  and  make  him  such  an  allowance  as  they  can 
afford,  and  think  right,  and  sufficient;  his,  to  work  steadily, 
and  not  to  get  in  debt,  or  cultivate  habits  and  indulge 
tastes  which  he  cannot  afford.  You  will  see  through  life 
all  sorts  of  contemjDtible  ostentation  and  shiftlessness  on 
every  side  of  you.  Nurses,  if  they  aie  allov/ed,  begin  with 
fiddle-faddling  about  children,  till  they  make  them  utterly 
helpless,  unable  to  do  anything  for  themselves,  and  think- 
ing such  helplessness  a  fine  thing.  Ladies'  maids,  grooms, 
valets,  flunkeys,  keepers,  carry  on  the  training  as  they  get 
older.     Even  at  public  schools  I  can  see  this  extravagance 


9G  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap, 

and  shiftlessness  growing  in  every  direction.  There  are 
all  sorts  of  ridiculous  expenses,  in  the  shape  of  costumes 
and  upholstery  of  one  kind  or  another,  which  are  always 
increasing.  The  machinery  of  games  gets  every  year  more 
elaborate.  When  I  was  in  the  eleven  at  Eugby,  we  "  kept 
big-side  "  ourselves  ;  that  is  to  say,  we  did  all  the  rolling, 
watering,  and  attending  to  the  ground.  We  chose  and  pre- 
pared our  own  wickets,  and  marked  out  our  own  creases,  tor 
every  match.  We  had  no  "professional"  and  no  "pavi- 
lion," but  taught  ourselves  to  play;  and  when  a  strange 
eleven  was  coming  to  play  in  the  school  close,  asked  the 
Doctor  for  one  of  the  schools,  in  which  we  sat  them  down 
to  a  plain  cold  dinner.  I  don't  say  that  you  have  not 
better  grounds,  and.  are  not  more  regularly  trained 
cricketers  now ;  but  it  has  cost  a  great  deal  in  many 
ways,  and  the  game  has  been  turned  into  a  profession. 
Now,  one  set  of  boys  plays  just  like  another ;  then,  each  of 
the  great  schools  had  its  own  peculiar  style,  by  wz-ich  you 
could  distinguish  it  from  the  rest.  And,  after  you  leave 
school,  you  will  find  the  same  thing  in  more  contemptible 
forms,  at  the  Universities  and  in  the  world.  You  can't 
alter  society,  or  hinder  people  in  general  from  being  help- 
less, and  vulgar — from  letting  themselves  fall  into  slavery 
to  the  things  about  them  if  they  are  rich,  or  fiom  aping 
the  habits  and  vices  of  the  rich  if  they  are  poor.  But 
you  may  live  simple  manly  lives  yourselves,  speaking  your 
own  thought,  paying  your  own  way,  and  doing  your  own 


n.]  STAET  IN  LIFE.  97 

work,  whatever  that  may  be.  You  will  remain  gentlemen 
so  long  as  you  follow  these  rules,  if  you  have  to  sweep  a 
crossing  for  your  livelihood.  You  will  not  remain  gentle- 
men in  anything  but  the  name,  if  you  depart  from  them, 
though  you  may  be  set  to  govern  a  kingdom.  And  when- 
ever the  temptation  comes  to  you  to  swerve  from  them, 
think  of  the  subject  of  this  memoir,  of  the  old  lady  in 
the  farmhouse  by  Uffington  fish-pond,  and  the  tablet  in 
the  Temple  Church. 

Such  a  resolution  as  that  which,  as  I  have  just  shown 
you,  was  taken  by  my  brother  at  the  end  of  his  residence 
at  Oxford,  is  always  a  turning-point  in  character.  If 
faithfully  and  thoroughly  carried  out,  it  will  strengthen 
the  whole  man ;  lifting  him  on  to  a  new  plane,  as  it  were, 
and  enabling  him,  without  abruptly  breaking  away  from 
his  old  life,  to  look  at  its  surroundings  from  a  higher 
standpoint,  and  so  to  get  a  new  and  a  truer  perspective. 
If  repented  of,  or  acted  out  half-heartedly,  it  is  apt  to 
impair  a  man's  usefulness  sadly,  to  confuse  his  judgment, 
and  soften  the  fibre  of  his  will.  He  gets  to  look  back 
upon  his  former  pursuits  with  an  exaggerated  fondness, 
and  to  let  them  gradually  creep  back,  till  they  get  a 
stronger  hold  on  him  than  ever,  so  that  he  never  learns 
to  put  them  in  their  right  place  at  all.  The  moral  of 
which  to  you  boys  is — think  well  over  your  important 
steps   in  life,  and,  having  made   up  your  minds,  never 

H 


98  MEMOIR  OF  A  BIWTHEB.  [cBAr. 

look  behind,  George  never  did.  From  Oban  he  writes 
home :  "  My  forthcoming  engagement  occupies  all  my 
thoughts,  and  indeed  a  good  deal  of  my  time ;  for  if  I 
intend  to  succeed,  I  must  be  well  up  in  everything.  I 
shall  not,  therefore,  be  able  to  make  many  excursions 
from  Oban."  Your  grandfather  had  been  a  friend  of 
Sir  Walter  Scott,  and  had  brought  us  up  on  his  works ; 
and  had  suggested  to  George  that  this  would  be  a  good 
opportunity  for  visiting  a  number  of  the  spots  immor- 
talized by  the  Wizard  of  the  North.    This  was  his  answer. 

In  the  same  spirit  I  find  him  writing  about  the  same 
time  as  to  a  new  cricket  club,  which  was  starting  under 
very  favourable  auspices  in  Berkshire,  and  in  which  he 
had  been  asked  to  take  a  leading  part :  "  I  shall  cei'tainly 
not  join  the  A.  C.  Club;  and  as  for  Tom,  I  should  think 
his  joining  more  improbable  still.  Cricket  is  over  for 
both  of  us,  except  accidentally." 

In  this  spirit  he  took  to  his  new  work ;  and,  going 
into  it  heartily  and  thoroughly,  found  it  very  pleasant. 
He  occupied  Byron  House  at  Harrow,  with  his  pupils, 
in  which  his  old  friend  Mr.  M.  Arnold  afterwards  lived. 
There  were  several  of  his  oid  schoolfellows,  and  college 
friends,  among  the  Masters;  and  I,  and  others  of  his 
old  friends,  used  to  run  down  occasionally,  on  half- 
holidays,  from  London,  and  play  football  or  cricket  with 
the  boys,  amongst  whom  the  prestige  of  his  athletic 
career   of   course   made  him  a  great  favourite  and  hera 


VI.]  START  IN  LIFE.  99 

Thus  he  got  as  much  society  as  he  cared  for,  and  found 
time,  in  the  intervals  of  his  regular  work,  for  a  good 
deal  of  general  reading.  In  fact,  I  never  knew  him 
more  cheerful  than  during  these  yeare  of  what  most  of 
us  regarded  as  lost  time,  and  in  which  we  certainly 
expected  he  would  have  been  bored,  and  disappointed. 
Tliis  would  not  have  been  so  perhaps  had  he  proved 
unsuccessful ;  but  his  pupils  got  on  well  in  the  school, 
and  their  father  soon  found  him  out,  and  appreciated 
him.  At  the  beginning  of  the  first  long  vacation  he 
writes  home  : — 

"Mr.  Beaumont,  finding  I  am  fond  of  a  gun,  has 
most  kindly  offered  me  a  week's  shooting  on  his  moors. 
I  could  easily  manage  it,  and  meet  you  in  London  in 
time  to  visit  Lady  Salusbury.  You  will  not  think,  I 
know  well,  that  I  like  shooting  better  than  home;  and 
if  you  would  like  to  see  me  before  you  go  to  London, 
pray  say  so,  and  the  moors  will  not  occupy  another 
thought  in  my  head.  It  is  not  everyone  who  would 
have  taken  the  trouble  to  find  out  that  I  liked  shooting, 
and  I  feel  Mr.  Beaumont's  kindness ;  in  fact,  he  seems 
as  generous  as  a  prince  to  everyone  with  whom  he  has 
anything  to  do." 

But  it  was  in  his  own  family,  where  he  would  have 
wished  for  it  most,  that  the  reward  came  most  amply. 
He  became  in  these  years  the  trusted  adviser  of  your 
■grandfather  on  all  family  matters,  and  especially  with 
respect  to  his  three  youngest  brothers.  The  direction 
of  their   education   was   indeed   almost   handed   over  to 

H  2 


lOy     .  .         MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

him,  and  nothing  could  exceed  the  admiration  and  de- 
votion with  which  they  soon  learnt  to  regard  him.  The 
eldest  of  them  was  sent  to  Harrow  in  1848  to  be  under 
his  eye,  and  you  may  judge  of  the  sort  of  supervision 
he  exercised  by  this  specimen  of  his  reports: — 

"1  think  he  has  been  suffering  the  usual  reaction 
which  takes  place  when  a  boy  goes  to  a  new  school. 
He  worked  hard  at  first,  and  then,  finding  he  had  a 
good  deal  of  liberty  and  opportunity  of  amusement,  grew 
slack.  He  is  too  fond  of  exercise  to  be  naturally  fond  of 
work,  as  some  boys  are  who  are  blessed  with  small  animal 
spirits  ;  and  he  is  not  yet  old  enough  to  see  clearly  the 
object  of  education,  and  the  obligation  of  work.  I  have 
no  doubt  he  will  very  soon  find  this  out ;  but,  if  not,  it 
will  very  soon  be  forced  on  his  notice  by  the  unpleasant- 
ness of  being  beaten  by  his  contemporaries." 

Speaking  of  his  letters  of  advice  to  the  boys,  your 
grandfather  writes : — 

"  They  have  given  me  at  least  as  much  pleasure  as  them. 
You  are  doing  a  very  kind  thing  in  the  most  judicious  way, 
and  have  assisted  the  stimulus  which  they  required.  Good 
leaders  make  a  steady- going  team,  and  allow  the  coachman 
to  turn  round  on  his  box.  Arthur  [the  youngest]  will  in 
his  turn  benefit  by  these  fellows,  I  doubt  not.  You  would, 
I  think,  be  pleased  to  see  how  naturally  he  takes  to  cricket. 
In  fact,  take  him  altogether,  he  is  a  very  good  specimen  of 
a  six-year-old." 

But  perhaps  nothing  will  show  you  in  a,  short  space 
what  he  was  to  his  younger  brothers  so  well  as  cue  of 


VI.]  START  IN  LIFE.  101 


their  own  letters  to  him,  and  one  of  his  to  your  grand- 
mother. The  first  is  from  your  uncle  Harry,  written 
almost  at  the  end  of  his  first  half  at  Eugby : — 

"My  dear  George, 

"  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  writing  such  a 
capital  letter  to  me  the  other  day,  and  for  all  your  kind 
adxace,  which  you  may  be  sure  is  not  entirely  thrown 
away.  I  remember  all  the  kind  advice  you  gave  me  last 
winter,  as  we  were  coming  from  skating  at  Benham.  You 
warned  me  from  getting  into  '  tick,'  and  you  said  you  were 
sure  I  should  be  able  to  act  upon  your  good  advice,  and 
from  that  moment  I  determined  not  to  go  on  tick,  without 
I  could  possibly  help.  I  haven't  owed  a  penny  to  anyone 
this  half-year,  and  I  don't  mean  to  owe  anybody  anything 
in  the  money  way ;  and  I  have  not  spent  all  my  money 
yet,  and  if  I  have  not  got  enough  to  last  me  till  the  end  of 
the  half-year,  1  am  determined  not  to  tick ;  and  I  heartily 
thank  God  that  I  have  elder  brothers  to  guide  me  and  advise 
me;  I  am  afraid  I  should  have  done  badly  without  them. 
You  advised  me  also  in  your  kind  letter  to  work  steadily. 
I  fancy  I  am  placed  pretty  decently ;  the  form  I  am  in  is 
the  upper  remove.  I  keep  low  down  in  my  form,  princi- 
pally from  not  knowing  my  Kennedy's  grammar.  I  find 
it  very  hard  to  say  by  heart.  I  should  have  been  placed 
higher,  I  think,  if  I  had  known  it;  and  I  should  advise 
Arthur  to  begin  it  now,  if  he  is  coming  to  Eugby,  which  I 
hope  he  is.  He  will  find  it  disagreeable  now,  but  he  would 
find  it  wort^e  if  he  did  not  know  it  when  he  came  here.  I 
think  if  you  would  be  kind  enough  to  write  to  him,  and 
show  him  how  necessary  it  is  for  him  to  learn  it,  he  would 
be  only  too  glad  to  do  it.  I  think  the  great  fault  in  me 
is,  not  so  nmch  forgetfulness,  but  a  not  having  a  determi- 
nation to  do  a  thing  at  the  moment.     I  put  it  ofif.     But  I 


WiTMD 


mo  -/ 

PUBLIC  LiBRARY 


102  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

have,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  innumerable  other  faults.  Mamma 
sent  me  a  book  of  prayers,  which  I  read  whenever  I  have 
got  time,  and  I  say  my  prayers  every  night  and  morning, 
and  I  pray  for  all  of  you.  I  have  now  mentioned,  I 
think,  everything  that  you  seemed  anxious  about  in  your 
letter." 

The  next  letter  is  dated  two  years  later,  when  the 
question  what  profession  the  writer  of  the  last  was  to 
follow,  had  become  important: — 

"  Dearest  jVTothee, 

"  T  will  answer  your  questions  as  well  as  I  am  able. 
Harry  will  not  lower  himself  by  farming.  It  might  have 
been  so  ten  years  ago,  but  the  workl  is  getting  less  absurd, 
and,  besides,  I  think  more  gentlemen  are  now  taking  it  up 
as  a  profession  (Mr.  Iliixtable,  for  instance,  and  many 
others),  and  are  most  highly  resjiected.  But  to  succeed  in 
farming  in  England  now,  one  must  be  a  remarkable  man  ; 
one  must  thoroughly  understand  all  practical  details,  and 
be  able  to  work  oneself  better  than  a  labourer ;  besides 
this,  th'e  farmer  must  be  a  tolerable  chemist  and  geologist, 
must  understand  bookkeeping  and  accounts,  and  must  be 
enterprising  and  yet  cautious  ;  as  patient  as  Job,  and  as 
active  minded  (and  botlied)  as  anyone  you  can  tiiink  of. 
Now  Harry,  aithougVi  amiable,  is  rather  indolent,  and  unless 
lie  can  entirely  get  rid  of  this,  he  will  ruin  himself  in  a 
year  by  farming  in  England.  In  Ireland  or  the  colonies 
it  might  be  different.  For  the  same  reasons  I  would  not 
recommend  the  Bar  for  Harry.  It  is  very  laborious,  the 
confinement  great,  and  it  requires  a  hard  head  :  moreover, 
the  education  is  quite  as  expensive  as  an  Oxford  one,  if 
that  is  any  consideration.  However,  if  you  think  that 
Harry  can  acquire  (not  an  ordinary,  but)  an  extraordinary 


VI.]  ■  START  IN  LIFE.  103 

amount  of  diligence,  let  him  come  to  the  Bar  or  farm.  I 
confess  I  should  discourage  both  ideas.  If  you  can  get  a 
cadetship  for  him,  I  would  certainly  accept  it.  The  two 
dangers  of  Indian  military  life  are  extravagance  and  dissi- 
pation, and  I  don't  think  Harry  inclined  to  either.  He  has 
not  been  extravagant  at  Eugby,  and  the  temptations  of  a 
public  school  are  as  great  as  they  are  anywhere  ;  and  t 
think  he  is  well-princijjled  and  kind-hearted,  which  will 
save  him  from  the  other  danger.  The  army  is  getting 
much  better,  and  officers  begin  to  find  out  that  they  may 
do  immense  good  in  their  profession  by  looking  after  thft 
condition  of  their  men.  If  you  should  obtain  a  cadetship, 
it  will  not  be  difhcult  to  make  Harry  understand  that  he 
will  have  other  duties  besides  drill,  and  I  believe  he  would 
perform  them.  I  am  sure  he  would  be  exceedingly  popular 
with  officers  and  men,  If  he  had  been  bad-tempeied,  or 
disobedient,  or  ill-conditioned,  I  should  have  recommended 
the  navy,  as  by  far  the  best  school  f  r  such  a  character  ;  but 
as  he  does  not  want  such  disciyjline,  r  s  we  have  no  interest, 
as  it  is  a  poor  profession  in  a  worldly  point  of  view,  and  as 
he  is  (I  fancy)  rather  too  old,  I  think  it  is  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. I  confess  I  should  hesitate  much  between  orders  and 
the  army.  If  I  saw  any  likelihood  of  Harry's  doing  any- 
thing at  Oxford,  I  should  like  to  see  him  a  clergyman.  I 
am  sure  he  would  be  a  conscientious  one,  and  therefore 
happy.  But  I  clo7it  think  he  would  do  anything  (though 
of  course  he  would  pass),  and  there  are  the  same  tempta- 
tions there  as  in  the  army.  On  the  whole,  I  would  try 
immediately  to  procure  a  cadetship  ;  if  you  cannot  get  one, 
I  would  try  to  induce  Harry  to  take  orders.  I  said  some- 
thing about  Ireland  and  the  colonies  in  connection  with 
farming.  On  second  thoughts,  I  don't  think  Harry  would 
be  a  suitable  person.  Amiable  tempers  always  require  (at 
first)  some  one  to  look  up  to  and  lean  upon ;   they  are 


104  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

longer  in  learning  to  stand  alone.  Now,  no  one  is  so  much 
isolated  as  a  colonist.  He  is  thrown  entirely  on  his  own 
resources,  and  has  no  one  to  give  him  advice  and  sympathy. 
In  the  army,  and  indeed  in  orders,  one  is  generally  trained 
to  bear  responsibility.  So  I  am  for  the  cadetship.  He  will 
be  at  once  provided  for,  and  will  return  to  England  in  the 
prime  of  life  with  a  competence.  This  is  always  supposing 
that  he  will  escape  the  dangers  of  the 'profession  (as  I 
think),  ami  that  you  and  he  do  not  think  the  advantages 
counterbalanced  by  the  separation.  I  have  no  doubt  that 
when  communication  with  India  is  easier  (and  it  wiU  soon 
be  incredibly  easier),  officers  will  come  home  at  shorter 
intervals." 

Meantime  he  was  studying  the  same  question  carefully 
in  his  own  case,  with  a  view  to  determining  whether  he 
slioidd  take  orders  when  his  work  at  Harrow  was  over. 
His  father  and  mother,  though  on  the  whole  wishing  that 
he  should  do  so,  were  perfectly  content  to  let  him  thiuk 
the  matter  out,  and  settle  it  his  own  way.  They  seem, 
however,  to  have  supplied  him  with  specimens  of  contem- 
porary pidpit  literature,  upon  some  of  which  he  comments 
in  his  correspondence,  not,  on  the  whole,  with  any  enthu- 
siasm. "  Surely,"  he  sums  up  some  criticism  on  a  popular 
preacher  of  that  day,  "  there  is  a  pulpit  eloquence  equally 
remote  from  line  writing  and  familiarity,  such  as  was 
Dr.  Arnold's.  1  am  doubtful  as  to  reading  these  books, 
for  T  know  that  1  ought  not  to  think  of  the  style,  and 
yet  T  cannot  help  it.     It  takes  me  down  against  my  will." 

Your  grandfather  replied :  "  The  Church  ought  certainly 


VI.]  START  IN  LIFE.  105 

to  be  a  labour  of  love,  and  followed  with  zeal.  If  on  a 
final  review  of  your  sentiments,  aided  perhaps  by  the  ad- 
vice of  some  clergyman  you  look  up  to  (why  not  Vaughan  ?) 
you  do  not  think  you  could  engraft  this  zeal  on  sound  con- 
victions, and  an  upright  character,  you  are  quite  right  in 
deciding  for  the  -Bar.  In  after  life  you  will  not  be  wholly 
dependent  on  a  profession,  and  many  of  our  best  men  have 
started  as  late." 

In  the  end  he  made  up  his  mind  against  taking  orders, 
but  not  on  any  of  the  grounds  which  deter  so  many  young 
men  of  ability  now.  "  My  only  objection,"  he  writes  to 
his  mother,  "  to  taking  orders  is,  that  it  might  not  suit  me. 
Once  ordained,  it  is  impossible  to  change  your  profession ; 
and  unless  a  man  has  his  whole  soul  in  this  profession,  he 
is  useless,  or  worse." 

And  so,  at  the  end  of  his  three  years  at  Harrow,  he 
resolved  to  go  to  the  Bar,  and  choosing  that  branch  of  it 
for  which  his  previous  reading  had  best  qualified  him,  took 
his  degree  of  Doctor  of  Civil  Law,  and  entered  at  Doctors' 
Commons. 

You  will  havfe  recognized  by  this  time  how  carefully 
your  gxandfather  watched  tlie  development  of  character  in 
his  sons,  and  that  he  was  by  no  means  inclined  to  over- 
look their  faults,  or  to  over-estimate  their  good  qualities. 
The  longer  I  live  myself,  the  more  highly  I  am  inclined  to 
rate  liis  judgment  of  men  and  things,  and  this  is  the  con- 
clusion he  had  formed  at  this  time  of  his  eldest  son's 


106  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [cHAT. 

character.     It  occurs  in  a  letter  to  a  relative  then  living, 
and  dated  25th  January,  1849  : — 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  had  an  opportunity  (difficult  to 
get  from  his  reserved  character)  of  seeing  what  is  in  George 
when  put  to  the  proof.  There  are  many  men  of  his  age 
with  more  active  benevolence  and  habits  of  more  general 
utility,  as  well  as  perhaps  warmer  spiritual  feeling,  also 
more  useful  acquired  knowledge.  His  great  forte  rather 
lies  in  those  ([ualities  which  give  men  the  ascendency  in 
more  troubled  times — perfect  consistency  of  word  and 
purpose,  great  moral  and  physical  courage,  and  a  scru- 
pulous sense  of  what  is  due  to  oneself  and  others  in  the 
relations  of  social  life,  combined  with  the  caution  a  man 
should  possess,  who  never  intends  to  retract  an  opinion  or 
a  profession.  Much  perhaps  of  the  chevalier  sans  tache 
who  used  to  be  the  fashion  in  the  rough  times  before  steam 
and  'ologies  came  in.  In  my  time  tliese  sort  of  people 
we^e  always  more  popular  among  Oxford  youngsters  (who 
are  very  acute  in  reading  character)  than  mere  wits, 
scholars,  or  dashing  men.  I  suppose  it  is  so  still,  and 
thereby  account  for  the  estimation  which  it  seems  he  had 
in  Oriel.  And  I  apprehend  this  sort  of  established  cha- 
racter must  help  a  man  in  a  profession  where  he  means  to 
work,  and  I  will  answer  for  his  doing  so." 

But  there  is  one  feature  in  George's  character  which 
this  estimate  of  it  does  not  bring  out.  I  mean  his 
great  unselfishness.  As  an  illustration  of  this,  I  will 
show  you  how  he  treated  a  proposal  made  on  account 
of  your  grandfather  while  he  was  at  Harrow.  We 
had  had  the  first  loss  in  our  circle.  Your  uncle  Walter, 
whom  none  of  you  remember,  a  young  officer  in  the 


VI.]  STABT  IN  LIFE.  107 

Artillery,  had  died  of  an  attack  of  yellow  fever  in 
British  Guiana.  This  had  shaken  your  grandfather  a 
good  deal,  and  his  health  was  no  longer  strong  enough 
to  allow  him  to  follow,  and  enjoy,  his  country  pursuits. 
Besides,  the  house  at  Donnington  was  too  big  for  the 
shrunken  family  which  now  gathered  tliere,  and  tliose 
of  us  who  had  flitted  were  settled,  or  likely  to  settle,  in 
London.  So  it  was  thought  that  it  would  he  well  for 
your  grandfather,  and  all  of  us,  if  he  were  to  follow,  and 
move  up  to  the  neighbourhood  of  town.  In  any  case 
George's  opinion  would  have  been  the  first  taken  on  such  a 
step,  but  in  this  it  was  necessary  that  he  should  consent, 
as  Donnington  was  settled  on  him.  He  was  very  much 
attached  to  tlie  place  in  which  we  had  all  grown  up  ;  and 
local,  and  county,  and  family  associations  had  a  peculiarly 
strong  hold  on  him.  But  all  these  were  set  aside  without 
a  second  tliought.  All  he  was  anxious  about  was,  that  so 
serious  a  change  should  be  well  considered.  "  I  think," 
he  writes  to  his  mother,  ''■  you  should  be  cautious  about 
changing.  In  the  first  place,  it  will  cause  you  personally 
an  immense  amount  of  annoyance,  which  you  ought 
never  to  incur,  especially  now.  Then  you  will  miss  your 
garden,  and  your  village  occupations,  and  your  neighbours. 
My  last  letter  might  have  led  you  to  suppose  that  I 
myself  preferred  Hampstead  to  Donnington,  but  that  is 
not  the  case.  I  should  consider  it  desirable  under  certain 
circumstances.     If  you  and  my  father,  and  Jeanie  and  the 


108  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [ch.  vi. 

rest,  think  these  circumstances  exist,  I  sincerely  hope  you 
•will  change,  and  lose  no  time  about  it.  But  do  not  do  a 
thing  which  will  cause  you  a  great  deal  of  trouble  and 
annoyance  without  the  clearest  grounds.  Above  all,  believe, 
and  this  I  say  with  the  most  perfect  truth,  that  I  stall 
be  equally  happy  whichever  you  do." 


CHAPTEE  Vn. 

1849-50  :—AN  EPISODE. 

At  the  time  when  my  brother's  Harrow  engagement 
came  to  an  end,  I  had  just  settled  in  a  London  house, 
and,  to  my  great  delight,  he  proposed  to  come  and  live 
■with  lis,  and  occupy  our  spare  room  in  Upper  Berkeley 
Street.  Besides  all  my  other  reasons  for  rejoicing  at  this 
arrangement,  which  you  may  easily  imagine  for  yourselves 
"when  you  have  read  thus  far,  there  was  a  special  one  just  at 
this  time,  which  I  must  now  explain.  The  years  1848-9 
had  been  years  of  revolution,  and,  as  always  happens 
at  such  times,  the  minds  of  men  had  been  greatly  stirred 
on  many  questions,  and  specially  on  the  problem  of  the 
social  condition  of  the  great  mass  of  the  poor  in  all 
European  countries.  In  Paris,  the  revolution  had  been 
the  signal  for  a  great  effort  on  the  part  of  the  workmen  ; 
and  some  remarkable  experiments  had  been  made,  both 
by  the  Provisional  Government  of  1848,  and  by  certain 
employers  of  labour,  and  bodies  of  skilled  mechanics, 
with  a  view  to  place  the  conditions  of  labour  upon  a  more 


AlO  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

equitable  and  satisfactory  footing ;  or,  to  use  the  common 
phrase  of  the  day,  to  reconcile  the  interests  of  capital  and 
labour.  The  Government  experiment  of  "  national  work- 
shops "  had  failed  disastrously,  but  a  number  of  the  private 
associations  were  brilliantly  successful.  The  history  of 
some  of  these  associations — of  the  sacrifices  which  had 
been  joyfully  made  by  the  associates  in  order  to  collect 
the  small  funds  necessaiy  to  start  them — of  the  ability 
and  industry  with  which  they  were  conducted,  and  of  their 
marvellous  effect  on  the  habits  of  all  those  engaged  in  the 
work — had  deeply  interested  many  persons  in  England. 
It  was  resolved  to  try  an  experiment  of  the  same  kind 
here,  but  the  conditions  were  very  different.  The  seed 
there  had  already  taken  root  amongst  the  industrial 
classes,  and  the  movement  ]iad  come  from  them.  Here 
the  workpeople,  as  a  rule,  had  no  belief  in  association  ex- 
cept for  defensive  purposes.  It  was  chiefly  amongst  young 
professional  men  that  the  idea  was  working,  and  it  was 
necessary  to  preach  it  to  those  whom  it  most  concerned. 
Accordingly  a  society  was  formed,  chiefly  of  young  bar- 
risters, under  the  presidency  of  the  late  Mr.  Maurice,  who 
was  then  Chaplain  of  Lincoln's  Inn,  for  the  purpose  of 
establishing  associations  similar  to  those  in  Paris.  It  was 
called  the  Society  for  Promoting  Working  Men's  Associa- 
tions, and  I  happened  to  be  one  of  the  original  members^ 
and  on  the  Council.  We  were  all  full  of  enthusiasm  and 
hope  in  our  work,  and  of  propagandist  zeal :  anxious  to 


VII.]  l84d-50:— AN  EPISODE.  Ill 

bring  in  all  the  recruits  we  could.  I  cannot  even  now 
think  of  my  own  state  of  mind  at  the  time  without  wonder 
and  amusement.  I  certainly  thought  (and  for  that  matter 
have  never  altered  my  opinion  to  this  day)  that  here  we 
had  found  the  solution  of  the  great  labour  question  ;  but 
I  was  also  convinced  that  we  had  nothing  to  do  but  just 
to  announce  it,  and  found  an  association  or  two,  in  order 
to  convert  all  England,  and  usher  in  the  millennium  at 
once,  so  plain  did  the  whole  thing  seem  to  me.  I  will  not 
undertake  to  answer  for  the  rest  of  the  Council,  but  I 
doubt  whether  I  was  at  all  more  sanguine  than  the 
majority.  Consequently  we  went  at  it  with  a  will :  held 
meetings  at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning  (so  as  not  to  inter- 
fere with  our  regular  work)  for  settling  the  rules  of  our 
central  society,  and  its  offshoots,  and  late  in  the  evening, 
for  gathering  tailors,  shoemakers,  and  other  handicrafts- 
men, whom  we  might  set  to  work ;  started  a  small 
publishing  oflBce,  presided  over  by  a  diminutive  one-eyed 
costermonger,  a  rough  and  ready  speaker  and  poet  (who 
had  been  in  prison  as  a  Chartist  leader),  from  which  we 
issued  tracts  and  pamphlets,  and  ultimately  a  small  news- 
paper ;  and,  as  the  essential  condition  of  any  satisfactory 
progress,  commenced  a  vigorous  agitation  for  such  an 
amendment  in  the  law  as  would  enable  our  infant  Asso- 
ciations to  carry  on  their  business  in  safety,  and  with- 
out hindrance.  We  very  soon  had  our  hands  full.  Our 
denunciations    of   unlimited  competition    brought    on   U3 


112  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

attacks  in  newspapers  and  magazines,  which  we  answered, 
nothing  loth.  Our  opponents  called  us  Utopians  and 
Socialists,  and  we  retorted  that  at  any  rate  we  were 
Cliristians ;  that  our  trade  principles  were  on  all-fours 
with  Christianity,  while  theirs  were  utterly  opposed  to  it. 
So  we  got,  or  adopted,  the  name  of  Christian  Socialists, 
and  gave  it  to  our  tracts,  and  our  paper.  We  were  ready  to 
light  our  battle  wherever  we  found  an  opening,  and  got 
support  from  the  most  unexpected  quarters.  I  remember 
myself  being  asked  by  Mr,  Senior,  an  old  friend  of  your 
grandfather,  to  meet  Archbishop  Whately,  and  several 
eminent  political  economists,  and  explain  what  we  were 
about.  After  a  couple  of  hours  of  hard  discussion,  in 
which  I  have  no  doubt  I  talked  much  nonsense,  I  retired, 
beaten,  but  quite  unconvinced.  Next  day,  the  late  Lord 
Ashburton,  who  had  been  present,  came  to  my  chambers 
and  gave  me  a  cheque  for  £50  to  help  our  experiment ; 
and  a  few  days  later  I  found  another  nobleman,  sitting 
on  the  counter  of  our  shoemakers'  association,  arguing 
with  the  manager,  and  giving  an  order  for  boots. 

It  was  just  in  the  midst  of  all  this  that  my  brother 
came  to  live  with  us.  I  had  already  converted  him,  as 
I  thought.  He  was  a  subscribing  member  of  our  Society, 
and  dealt  with  our  Associations ;  and  I  had  no  doubt 
would  now  join  the  Council,  and  work  actively  in  the 
new  crusade.  I  knew  how  sound  his  judgment  was,  and 
that  he  never  went  back  from  a  resolution  once  taken, 


vii.]  1849-50  i—AN  EPISODE.  113 

and  therefore  was  all  the  more  eager  to  make  sure  of 
him,  and,  as  a  step  in  this  direction,  had  already  placed 
his  name  on  committees,  and  promised  his  attendance. 
But  I  was  doomed  to  disappointment.  He  attended  one 
or  two  of  our  meetings,  but  I  could  not  induce  him  to 
take  any  active  part  with  us.  At  a  distance  of  twenty- 
two  years  it  is  of  course  difficult  to  recall  very  accurately 
what  passed  between  us,  but  I  can  remember  his  reasons 
well  enough  to  give  the  substance  of  them.  And  first, 
as  he  had  formerly  objected  to  the  violent  language  of 
the  leaders  of  the  Anti-Corn-Law  agitation,  so  he  now 
objected  to  what  he  looked  upon  as  our  extravagance. 
"  You  don't  want  to  divide  other  people's  property  ? " 
"  No."  "  Then  why  call  yourselves  Socialists  ? "  "  But  wo 
couldn't  help  ourselves :  other  people  called  us  so  first." 
"Yes;  but  you  needn't  have  accepted  the  name.  Why 
acknowledge  that  the  cap  fitted  ?  "  "  Well,  it  would  have 
been  cowardly  to  back  out.  We  borrow  the  ideas  of  these 
Frenchmen,  of  association  as  opposed  to  competition  as 
the  true  law  of  industry ;  and  of  organizing  labour — of 
securing  the  labourer's  position  by  organizing  production 
and  consumption — and  it  would  be  cowardly  to  shirk 
the  name.  It  is  only  fools  who  know  nothing  about  the 
matter,  or  people  interested  in  the  competitive  system 
of  trade,  who  believe,  or  say,  that  a  desire  to  divide 
other  people's  property  is  of  the  essence  of  Socialism." 
"  That  may  be  very  true :  but  nine-tenths  of  mankind,  or, 

I 


114  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [cbap. 

at  any  rate,  of  Englislimen,  come  under  one  or  the  other 
of  those  categories.  If  you  are  called  Socialists,  you  will 
never  persuade  the  British  public  that  this  is  not  your 
object.  There  \va,3  no  need  to  take  the  name.  You  liave 
weight  enoiigh  to  carry  already,  without  putting  that  on 
your  shoulders."  This  w^as  his  first  objection,  and  he 
proved  to  be  right.  At  any  rate,  after  some  time  we 
dropped  the  name,  and  turned  the  "  Christian  Socialist " 
into  the  "  Journal  of  Association."  And  English  Socialists 
generally  have  instinctively  avoided  it  ever  since,  and 
called  themselves  '  co-operators,"  thereby  escaping  much 
abuse  in  the  intervening  years.  And,  when  I  look  back, 
I  confess  I  do  not  wonder  that  we  repelled  rather  than 
attracted  many  men  who,  like  my  brother,  were  inclined 
theoretically  to  agree  with  us.  For  I  am  bound  to  admit 
that  a  strong  vein  of  fanaticism  and  eccentricity  ran 
through  our  ranks,  which  the  marvellous  patience,  gentle- 
ness, and  wisdom  of  our  beloved  president  were  not  enough 
to  counteract,  or  control.  Several  of  our  most  active  and 
devoted  members  were  also  strong  vegetarians,  and  pho- 
netists.  In  a  generation  when  beards  and  wide-awakes 
were  looked  upon  as  insults  to  decent  society,  some  of 
us  wore  both,  with  a  most  heroic  indifference  to  public 
opinion.  In  the  same  way,  there  was  often  a  trenchant, 
and  almost  truculent,  tone  about  us,  which  was  well 
calculated  to  keep  men  of  my  brother's  temperament  at 
a  distance.     I  rather   enjoyed  it  myself,  but  learnt  its 


vri.]  1849-5U  :—AN  EPISODE.  115 

unwisdom  when  I  saw  its  effect  on  liini,  and  others,  who 
were  inclined  to  join  us,  and  would  have  proved  towers 
of  strength.  It  was  right  and  necessary  to  denounce  the 
evils  of  unlinnted  competition,  and  the  falsehood  of  the 
economic  doctrine  of  "every  man  for  himself;"  but  quite 
unnecessary,  and  therefore  unwise,  to  speak  of  the  whole 
system  of  trade  as  "  the  dis.o-usting  vice  of  shop-keeping," 
as  was  the  habit  of  several  of  our  foremost  and  ablest 
members. 

But  what  really  hindered  my  brother  from  taking  an 
active  share  in  our  work  was  not  these  eccentricities,  which 
soon  wore  off,  and  were,  at  the  worst,  superficial.  When 
he  came  to  look  the  work  fairly  in  the  face,  he  found  that 
he  could  not  lieartily  sympathise  with  it ;  and  the  quality 
of  thoroughness  in  him,  which  your  grandfather  notices, 
would  not  let  him  join  half-heartedly.  His  conclusion  was 
reached  somehow  in  this  way  :  "  It  comes  to  this,  then. 
What  you  are  all  aiming  at  is,  the  complete  overthrow  of 
the  present  trade  system,  and  the  substitution  of  what,  you 
say,  will  prove  a  more  honest  and  lighteous  one.  It  is  not 
simply  a  question  of  setting  up,  and  getting  a  legal  status 
for,  these  half-dozen  associations  of  tailors  and  shoemakers, 
and  these  grocery  stores.  If  the  principle  is  good  for  any- 
thing, it  must  spread  everywhere,  and  into  every  industrial 
process.  It  can't  live  peaceably  side  by  side  with  the 
present  system.  They  are  absolutely  antagonistic,  and  the 
one  must  cast  out  the  other.     Isn't  tliat  so  ?"     I,  of  course, 

I  2 


116  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

could  not  deny  the  conclusion.  "  Well,  then,"  his  argu- 
ment went  on,  "  I  don't  see  my  way  clearly  enough  to  go 
on.  Your  principle  I  can't  object  to.  It  certainly  seems 
truer,  and  stronger,  and  more  in  accord  with  Christianity, 
than  the  other.  But,  after  all,  the  business  of  the  world 
has  always  gone  on  upon  the  other,  and  the  world  has  had 
plenty  of  time  to  get  to  understand  its  own  business. 
You  may  say  the  results  are  not  satisfactory,  are  proofs 
that  the  world  has  done  nothing  but  blunder.  It  may  be 
so  :  but,  after  all,  experience  must  count  for  something,  and 
the  practical  wear  and  tear  of  centuries.  Self-interest  may 
be  a  low  motive,  but  the  system  founded  upon  it  has 
managed  somehow,  with  all  its  faults,  to  produce  a  very 
tolerable  kind  of  world.  When  yours  comes  to  be  tried 
practically,  just  as  great  abuses  may  be  found  inseparable 
from  it.  You  may  only  get  back  the  old  evils  under  new 
forms.  The  long  and  short  of  it  is,  I  hate  upsetting 
things,  which  seems  to  be  your  main  object.  You  say 
that  you  like  to  see  people  discontented  with  society,  as  it 
is,  and  are  ready  to  help  to  make  them  so,  because  it  is 
full  of  injustice,  and  abuses  of  all  kinds,  and  will  never  be 
better  till  men  are  thoroughly  discontented.  I  don't  see 
these  evils  so  strongly  as  you  do ;  don't  believe  in  heroic 
remedies ;  and  would  sooner  see  people  contented,  and 
making  the  best  of  society  as  they  find  it.  In  fact.  I  was 
born  and  bred  a  Tory,  and  can't  help  it." 

I  remember  it  all  very  vividly,  because  it  was  a  great 


VII.]  1849-50:— ^iV  EPISODE.  117 

grief  to  me  at  tlie  time,  chiefly  because  I  was  very  anxious 
to  have  him  witli  us;  but,  partly,  because  I  had  made  so 
sure  of  getting  him  tliat  I  had  boasted  of  it  to  our  Council, 
which  included  several  of  our  old  school  and  college 
friends.  They  were  delighted,  knowing  what  a  valuable 
recruit  he  would  prove,  and  now  I  had  to  make  the 
Immiliating  confession,  that  I  had  reckoned  without  my 
host.  He  continued  to  pay  his  subscription,  and  to  get  his 
clothes  at  our  tailors'  association  till  it  failed,  which  was 
more  than  some  of  our  number  did,  for  the  cut  was  so  bad 
as  to  put  the  sternest  principles  to  a  severe  test.  But  I 
could  see  that  this  was  done  out  of  kindness  to  me,  and 
not  from  sympathy  with  what  we  were  doing. 

But  my  disappointment  had  at  least  this  good  result, 
that  it  opened  my  eyes  thoroughly,  and  made  me  tolerant 
of  opposition  to  my  own  most  earnest,  and  deepest,  con- 
victions. .1  have  been  what  I  suppose  would  be  called  an 
advanced  Liberal  ever  since  I  was  at  Oxford,  but  have  never 
been  able  to  hate  or  despise  the  old-fashioned  Tory  creed; 
for  it  was  the  creed  of  almost  the  kindest,  and  bravest,  and 
ablest  man  I  have  ever  known  intimately — my  own  brother. 

I  must,  however,  add  here,  that  he  always  watched  with 
great  interest  the  social  revolution  in  which  he  could  not 
take  an  active  part.  In  1-851,  the  Industrial  and  Provident 
Societies'  Act,  under  which  the  co-operative  societies  of 
different  kinds  first  obtained  legal  recognition,  was  passed, 
chiefly  owing  to  the  exertions  of  Mr.  Ludlow  and  other 


118  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 


members  of  our  old  Coimcil.  There  are  now  more  than 
51,000  societies  registered  under  that  Act  in  England  alone, 
doing  a  yearly  business  of  ten  millions,  and  owning  pro- 
perty of  the  amount  of  £2,500,000  and  upwards  ;  and  as 
he  saw  the  principle  spreading,  and  working  practically, 
and,  wherever  it  took  root,  educating  the  people  in  self- 
control,  and  thrift,  and  independence,  he  was  far  too  good 
an  Englishman  not  to  rejoice  at,  and  sympathise  with,  the 
result,  though  I  doubt  whether  he  ever  quite  got  over  the 
feeling  of  distrust  and  anxiety  with  which  he  regarded 
even  a  peaceful,  and  apparently  beneiicent,  revolution. 

You  all  know  how  nmch  I  wish  that  you  should  take  it 
thorough  and  intelligent  interest,  and,  in  due  time,  an 
active  part,  in  public  affairs.  I  don't  mean  that  you 
should  adopt  politics  as  a  profession,  because,  as  matters 
stand  in  this  country,  poor  men,  as  most  of  you  will  be, 
are  not  able,  as  a  rule,  to  do  this  and  retain  their  inde- 
pendence. But  I  want  you  to  try  to  understand  politics, 
and  to  study  important  questions  as  they  arise,  so  that  you 
may  be  always  ready  to  support,  with  all  the  influence  you 
may  happen  to  have,  the  measures  and  policy  which  you 
have  satisfied  yourselves  will  be  best  for  your  country.  Of 
course  I  should  like  to  see  you  all  of  my  own  .way  of 
tliinking  ;  but  this  is  not  at  all  likely  to  happen,  and  I 
care  comparatively  little  whether  you  turn  out  Liberals  or 
'J'ories,  so  that  you  take  your  sides  conscientiously,  and 
li')ld  to  them  through  good  and  evil  report ;  always  remem- 


VII.]  1849-50:— AN  EPISODE.  119 

bering,  at  the  same  time,  that  those  who  are  most  useful 
and  powerful  iu  supporting  a  cause,  are  those  who  know 
best  what  can  be  said  against  it ;  and  that  your  opponents 
are  just  as  likely  to  be  upright  and  honest  men  as  yourselves, 
,  or  those  with  whom  you  agree.  My  brother's  example 
taught  me  this,  and  I  hope  it  may  do  as  much  for  you. 

There  is  a  little  poem  of  Lowell's,  which  brings  out  so 
well  the  contrast  between  the  two  forces  constantly  at 
work  in  human  affairs,  and  illustrates  so  beautifully  the 
tempers  which  should  underlie  all  action  in  them,  that  I 
am  sure  you  will  thank  me  for  quoting  it  here.  It  is 
called  "Above  and  Below  :"— 

ABOVE. 
I. 

0  dwellers  in  the  valley  land, 

Who  in  deep  twilight  grope  and  cower, 
Till  the  slow  mountain's  dial-hand 

Shortens  to  noon's  triumphant  hour- 
While  ye  sit  idle,  do  ye  think 

The  Lord's  great  work  sits  idle  too. 
That  light  dare  not  o'erleap  the  brink 

Of  morn,  because  'tis  dark  with  you? 

Though  yet  your  valleys  skulk  in  night, 

In  God's  ripe  fields  the  day  is  cried. 
And  reapers,  with  their  sickles  bright. 

Troop,  singing,  down  the  mountain-side; 
Come  up,  and  feel  what  health  there  is 

In  tliv,  frank  Dawn's  delighted  eyes, 
As,  bmding  with  a  pitying  kiss. 

The  night-shed  tears  of  earth  she  drie0. 


130  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [ch.  vii. 

The  Lord  wants  reapers  :  oh,  mount  up, 

Before  Night  conies,  and  cries  "Too  latel" 
Stay  not  for  taking  scrip  or  cup, 

The  Master  liungers  wliile  ye  wait ; 
'Tis  from  these  heights  alone  j'our  eyes 

The  advancing  spears  of  day  may  see. 
Which  o'er  the  eastern  hill-tops  rise 

To  break  your  long  captivity. 

BELOW. 

II. 

Lone  watcher  on  the  mountain  height  I 

Itns  right  precious  to  behold 
The  first  long  surf  of  climbing  light 

Flood  all  the  thirsty  east  with  gold : 
But  we,  who  in  the  twilight  sit. 

Know  also  that  the  day  is  nigh, 
Seeing  thy  shining  forehead  lit 

With  his  inspiring  prophecy. 

Thou  hast  thine  office  :  we  have  ours : 

God  lacks  not  early  service  here. 
But  what  are  thine  eleventh  hours 

He  counts  with  us  as  morning  cheer ; 
Our  day  for  Him  is  long  enough, 

And  when  He  giveth  work  to  do, 
The  bruised  reed  is  amply  tough 

To  pierce  the  shield  of  error  through* 

But  not  the  less  do  thou  aspire 

Light's  earlier  messages  to  teach, 
Keep  back  no  syllable  of  fire — 

Plunge  deep  the  rowels  of  thy  speech. 
Yet  God  deems  not  thine  aeried  flight 

More  worthy  than  our  twilight  dim— 
For  brave  obedience,  too,  is  Light, 

And  following  that  is  finding  Hinu 


CHAPTER  Vin. 
ITALY. 

The  pleasure  of  having  my  brother  as  an  inmate  was 
scarcely  dimmed  by  tliis  disappointment,  and  he  remained 
with  us  until  the  autumn  of  1850,  a  white  nine  months 
in  my  life.  Your  grandfather  wrote  of  him  a  year  later, 
when  he  had  engaged  himself  to  be  married  :  "  I  cannot 
exactly  fancy  George  a  married  man,  seeing  that  to  the 
latest  period  his  ways  in  this  house  have  been  precisely 
the  same  as  when  he  was  a  Rugl)y  boy — as  few  wants,  and 
as  little  assumption,  though  I  have  exhorted  him  to 
swagger  and  order  a  little."  And,  as  it  was  at  Donnington, 
so  it  had  been  in  our  diminutive  town-house ;  indeed,  I 
doubt  whether  any  one  of  you,  or  any  public  school  boy, 
would  give  so  little  trouble.  He  read  hard,  starting  with 
me  every  morning  directly  after  breakfast ;  went  into  no 
society,  except  that  of  a  few  old  friends,  and  allured  me 
away  occasionally  on  summer  afternoons,  from  law,  and 
the  reform  of  trade,  to  a  game  of  cricket  with  the  Hamp- 
stead  club,  of  which  he  had  become  a  member,  or  in  the 


122  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTUEB.  [chap. 

Harrow  playing-fields,  where  he  was   always  more  than 
welcome. 

After  the  long  vacation  of  1850  he  had  intended  to 
begin  practice  in  Doctors'  Commons,  but  was  delayed  by 
an  accident.  He  was  struck  in  the  eye  by  a  spent  shot^ 
in  cover  shooting,  and,  though  the  accident  proved  not  to 
be  a  serious  one,  he  was  ordered  to  rest  his  eyes  en- 
tirely, and  accordingly  settled  to  spend  the  winter  in  Italy. 
The  vexation  of  such  a  check  at  the  opening  of  his 
professional  cafeer,  was  almost  compensated,  I  think, 
by  the  delight  wliich  this  tour  gave  him.  He  had  never 
been  abroad  at  this  time,  except  for  a  few  days  in 
France,  and  his  education  and  natural  tastes  peculiarly 
fitted  him  for  enjoying  Italy  thoroughly,  for  he  was  pas- 
sionately fond  of  art,  as  well  as  a  fine  classical  scholar, 
having  never  dropped  his  Latin  and  Greek,  as  most  of 
us  are  so  apt  to  do  the  moment  we  have  taken  our 
degrees. 

He  lingered  a  little  in  France,  on  his  way  south,  chiefly 
to  accustom  his  ear  and  tongue  to  the  language,  and  he 
writes  : — 

"  Marseilles,  December  6th,  1850. 

"T  have  not  made  much  progress  in  French;  everyone 
speaks  English  except  the  ouvriers.  I  address  a  waiter  in 
a  splendid  snutence,  which  I  expect  will  strike  him  with 
awe,  and  impress  him  with  my  knowledge  of  the  French 
language,  and  he.  takes  me  down  by  answering  in  English ; 
as  much  as  to  say,  '  For  goodness'  sake  speak  your  own 


Tin.]  ITALY.  133 

language,  and  I  shall  undevstand  you  better.'  Tn  such 
a  state  of  tilings,  one  can  only  listen  to  the  conversation 
of  Frenchmen  with  one  another,  and  try  to  imitate  their 
accent.  In  spite  of  beard  and  mustachios,  it  is  Voila 
les  Anglais  wherever  we  go.  The  only  person  who  passes 
for  a  Frenchman  is  one  of  our  American  fellow-travellers, 
who  has  grown  a  most  venerable  beard;  but.  as  he 
pronounces  French  just  as  if  it  were  English,  and  calls 
Dijon  'Dec  Ju/in,'  he  is  afraid  to  open  Ids  mouth  for  fear 
of  being  convicted  as  an  impostor  immediately.  I  think 
an  Englishman's  walk  betrays  him  ;  I  think  there  is  an 
unconscious  swagger  about  it,  which  savours  strongly  of 
'ros-bif,'  and  which  the  French  detect  in  a  moment. 
However,  they  are  most  polite  and  obliging,  and  I  think 
they  would  be  glad  to  do  you  any  service." 

In  Italy,  he  went  from  city  to  city,  revelling  in  picture 
galleries  and  studios,  as  his  eyes  regained  strength ;  taking 
lessons  in  Italian,  visiting  spots  of  historical  interest,  and 
sympathising  with,  and  appreciating,  the  Italians,  while 
wondering  at  their  patience  under  the  yoke  of  their  Govern- 
ments. It  was,  the  same  winter  which  jNIr.  Gladstone 
spent  in  Italy,  and  signalized  by  his  pamphlet  on  the 
political  prisoners  at  Naples.  Fortunately  for  my  brother, 
he  found  Mr.  Senior  and  his  family  at  Naples,  and  again 
at  Rome,  and  through  their  kindness,  and  that  of  Lady 
Malcolm,  saw  as  much  of  Italian  society  as  he  cared  for. 
A  few  selections  from  his  letters  will  show  yovi  how  he 
spent  his  time,  and  the  impressions  which  his  Italian  travel 
left  on  his  mind  : — 


124  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap 

"  Naples,  January  7,  1851. 
"  There  is  a  party  of  street-singers,  and  a  Punch,  outside 
"under  my  window,  who  distract  me  horribly.  They  have 
an  eternal  tune  here,  which  every  ragged  boy  sings ;  it  is 
called,  I  believe,  '  lo  ti  voglio'  and  is  rather  pretty,  but 
you  may  have  too  much  of  a  good  thing.  The  beggars  are 
most  amusing,  and  certainly  work  very  hard  in  their 
vocation.  There  is  an  old  woman  who  lies  on  the  ground 
in  a  tit  all  day  long;  another  elderly  female  stands  by  her 
in  a  despairing  attitude,  to  draw  attention  to  her  protracted 
sufferings,  and  receive  the  contributions  of  the  credulously 
benevolent.  But  the  old  lady  is  nothing  to  a  boy,  who  lies 
on  the  ground  and  bellows  like  a  bull  positively  for  three 
or  four  hours  together ;  I  quite  admire  the  energy  with 
which  he  follows  his  profession.  From  the  number  of 
crippled  and  deformed  persons  one  sees,  I  am  inclined  to 
believe  that  the  Neapolitans  purposely  mutilate  themselves 
in  order  to  succeed  better  in  their  favourite  calling.  They 
will  do  anything  sooner  than  work  usefully.  Punch  and 
the  singers  have  gone,  and  I  am  at  peace.  All  that  I  see 
of  continental  countries  makes  me  more  glad  that  I  am  an 
Englishman.  None  of  them  seem  secure.  The  poor  Pope  is 
kept  at  Rome  by  the  French ;  and  here  they  say  the  King 
is  very  rmpopular,  except  with  the  lowest  class.  This 
consciousness  of  insecurity  makes  them  very  suspicious 
and  harsh.  Two  or  three  da3''s  ago  an  Italian,  the  legal 
adviser  to  our  Embassy,  was  popped  into  prison  on  suspicion 
of  correspondence  with  Mazzini.  Fancy  Queen  Victoria 
putting  an  Englishman  into  Newgate  on  her  own  authority 
for  receiving  a  letter  from  a  Chartist.  I  suppose  they  are 
obliged  to  be  harsh  to  prevent  revolutions ;  thank  Heaven, 
England  is  free  and  loyal." 

"  Naples,  January  13,  1851. 

"  I  have  discovered  a  cousin  on  board  the  English  war 
steamer;  he  is  one  of  the  midshipmen,  and  on  Thursday  I 


vin.]  ITALY.  ]25 

took  a  boat  to  pay  him  a  visit.  I  was  obliged  to  obtain 
permission  from  the  police  to  go  on  board.  There  are  a 
quantity  of  miserable  refugees  lying  concealed  in  Naples, 
watching  their  opportunity  to  get  on  board  the  English 
ship,  where  they  are  safe  under  the  protection  of  our  flag. 
Four  are  on  board  already,  but  there  are  two  police-boats 
constantly  on  the  look-out  near  our  ship,  to  prevent  more 
from  coming.    Is  it  not  a  miserable  state  of  things  ?" 

"Rome,  January  1851. 

"My  deaeest  Mother, 

"  .  .  .  .  Tell  my  father  that  I  have  been  very 
extravagant.  I  have  bought  a  copy  in  marble  of  the  Psyche 
in  the  Museum  at  Naples ;  a  very  clever  artist  is  executing 
it  for  me,  and  it  will  be  finished  about  the  middle  of 
April.  Mr.  Senior  is  also  having  a  copy  taken.  I  do  not 
know  if  my  father  knows  the  statue.  It  is  attributed  to 
Praxiteles.  Nothing  has  pleased  me  so  much,  except  perhaps 
the  Dying  Gladiator ;  and  as  it  is  very  simple,  the  cost  of 
the  copy  is  comparatively  trifling.  It  will  look  very  well 
against  the  dark  oak  of  your  drawing-room  at  Donnington, 
and  I  hope  you  will  approve  of  my  taste." 

"  Rome,  January  28,  1851. 
"  We  saw  two  things  yesterday  which  will  interest  you: 
the  catacombs  in  which  the  early  Christian  martyrs  were 
buried,  and  in  which  the  Christians  met  during  the  perse- 
cutions to  worship  God.  They  are  immense  subterranean 
passages,  extending,  they  sav,  twenty  miles  ;  but  you  can 
only  see  a  part,  as  they  are  closed,  for  fear  of  affording  shelter 
to  thieves.  The  other  thing  was,  a  little  church  about  two 
miles  from  Eome,  on  the  Aj)pian  Road,  to  which  a  beautiful 
legend  is  attached.  It  is  said  that  8t.  Peter,  during  the 
persecution  in  which  he  suffered  martyrdom,  lost  heart, 
and  fled  from  Eome  by  the  Appian  Road  ;  he  had  arrived  at 


126  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  Tohap. 

the  spot  where  the  church  now  stands,  when  onr  Lord 
appeared  to  him,  going  towards  Rome.  The  Apostle  ex- 
claimed in  astonishment,  *  Lord,  whither  goest  thou  V  The 
answer  was,  *  I  go  to  Rome  to  be  crucified  again.'  Where- 
upon Peter  turned  back,  and  re-entered  the  city,  and 
suffered  the  death  which  had  been  predicted  for  him. 
There  is  no  reason  why  this  should  not  be  true,  but,  true  or 
not,  it  is  a  beautiful  story,  and  I  was  much  interested  by  it. 
They  show  a  stone  with  the  impression  of  our  Lord's  feet 
upon  it,  which  is  kept  as  a  relic." 

"February  10,  1851.  —  I  think  that  my  Italian  pro- 
gresses favourably.  My  master  tells  me  that  I  proyiounce 
it  better  than  any  other  of  his  pupils;  and  as  he  is  very 
strict,  and  finds  fault  with  everything  else,  I  suppose  I 
must  believe  that  he  speaks  the  truth." 

"■February  18,  1851. — You  will  be  glad  to  hear  that 
I  have  returned  to  Rome  from  my  walking  tour  without 
having  been  robbed,  or  murdered ;  but,  indeed,  I  must 
repeat,  that  the  good  gentleman  your  informant  must  liave 
been  dreaming.  We  received  nothing  but  kindness  and 
civility,  and  I  believe  that  you  might  walk  along  the  same 
mountain  paths  with  equal  safety.  As  for  us,  we  looked  much 
too  rou<'h  a  lot  to  tempt  robbers,  being  rather  like  banditti 
ourselves.  One  of  my  companions  wore  a  venerable  beard, 
and  I  am  afraid  we  both  looked  picturesque  ruffians.  Our 
other  companion  looked  tame,  and  carried  an  umbrella. 
We  used  to  take  a  cup  of  coffee  and  a  roll  soon  after 
sunrise,  then  walk  to  some  romantic  village  about  ten 
miles  off,  and  there  breakfast.  Our  breakfast  consisted  of 
an  omelette,  ^.frittata-  as  they  call  it  here,  which  we  cooked 
ourselves.     We  used  to  rush  into  an  osteria  di  cucina  in 

a  state  of  ravenous  hunger.     ,  my  friend  with  the 

beard,  who  is  a  very  good  cook,  seizes  the  frying-pan,  1 
beat  up  the  eggs,  and  S is  degraded  into  scullion,  to 


vm.]  ITALY.  127 

cut  wp  some  ham  and  an  onion ! !  I  believe  the  people 
think  us  mad.  They  covild  not  conceive  vi^hy  we  liked  to 
cook  our  own  breakfast,  and  walk  when  we  might  have 
ridden.  After  breaktast,  it  was  so  hot  that  we  used  to 
select  a  convenient  spot  on  the  hill-side,  and  lie  down  for 
an  hour,  and  then  contini\e  our  walk  till  about  sunset,  wliei. 
we  reached  our  resting-place  for  the  night.  In  this  way 
we  saw  some  of  the  most  beautiful  country  you  can  imagine. 
Every  little  exertion  we  made  in  climbing  a  rock  was  amply 
rewarded  by  something  most  strange  and  picturesque.  The 
towns  are  particularly  striking,  some  of  them  being  built  on 
the  very  top  of  mountains  nearly  3,000  feet  high,  and 
reached  with  difficulty,  by  a  narrow  winding  path.  I  am 
convinced  that  a  walking  tour  is  the  only  plan  of  really 
seeing  Italian  scenery.  I  made  some  sketches,  but  am 
sorry  to  say  that,  coming  into  Eome  on  Saturday  night,  my 
pocket  was  picked  of  my  sketch-book  (a  very  useless  prize 
to  anyone  but  the  owner,  and  perhaps  you),  so.  I  lost  them 
all.  I  am  excessively  vexed,  for  I  wanted  to  show  you  the 
sort  of  places  where  we  took  our  mid-day's  rest.  Tivoli  was 
our  last  stage,  and  perhaps  the  most  interesting, — there 
is  such  a  splendid  waterfall  there.  Even  if  I  do  not 
see  Turin,  I  shall  be  quite  satisfied  with  my  recollections 
of  it." 

After  this  he  hastened  home,  meeting  with  no  more 
serious  adventure  than  the  one  recorded  in  a  letter  to 
the  same  correspondent,  as  follows : — 

"  I  travelled  from  Chambery  to  Lyons  all  alone  in  a 
couple  with  an  Italian  lady  !  Horrid  situation !  and  what 
made  it  worse  was,  that  the  poor  thing  was  very  tired 
this  morning,  and  fell  fast  asleep,  and  whilst  in  a  state 
of  oblivion,  dropped  her  head  comfortably  on  to  my  arm. 


12R  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [ciiAP. 

After  revolving  in  my  miud  this  alarming  state  of  things, 
I  thought  it  would  be  best  to  feign  to  be  asleep  myself ; 
and  accordingly,  when  we  jolted  over  a  gutter,  and  she 
awoke  with  a  start,  she  found  me  with  my  eyes  shut,  and 
snoring.  I  hope  I  acted  it  well,  but  could  hardly  help 
laughing.  I  shortly  afterwards  rubbed  my  eyes  and  awoke, 
and  she  gave  me  a  roll  and  some  chocolate,  for  which 
I  was  very  thankful ;  so  I  suppose  she  approved  of  my 
conduct." 

He  returned  entirely  restored  to  health,  and  so  good  an 
Italian  scholar,  that  he  was  able  to  write  fluently  in  the 
language,  and  to  dedicate  the  little  objects  of  art,  which  he 
brought  home  as  presents,  in  appropriate  verse. 

One  of  these  was  an  inkstand  in  the  shape  of  an  owl, 
now  very  common,  which  he  presented  to  Lady  Salusbury, 
a  kinswoman  of  your  grandfather,  to  whose  adopted 
daughter  he  had  lately  engaged  himself,  with  this  in- 
scription : — 

"  '  La  stolidezza  copresi  talvolta  di  sembiante 
Savio ;  siccome  per  dar  ricovero  all'  inchi  ostro 
Si  fodera  con  piombo  la  civelta  di  bronzo 
Immago  dell'  uccello  di  sapienza.' 

"  Ecco  la  finta  pompa  dell'  uccello  ! 
II  quale,  sotto  '1  grave  e  savio  viso 
Avendo  pur  di  piombo  il  cervello 
Fra  i  tutti  poi  commuove  il  forte  riso — 

"  Cos!  si  trova  dal  sembiante  hello 
Talvolta  lo  bel  spirito  diviso, 
Si  trova  con  la  roba  da  Dottore 
Di  piombo  pur  la  testa,  ed  anch'  il  cuore.** 


vni.]  ITALY.  129 

To  tlie  young  lady  herself  he  wrote  on  his  return: 
"  I  have  continued  writing  a  journal,  and  you  will  be 
astonished  to  hear  that  your  name  is  not  once  mentioned 
in  it.  It  is,  however,  written  in  invisible  ink  across  every 
page.  It  may  be  absurd,  but  I  consider  my  feelings 
towards  you  so  sacred,  that  I  should  not  like  to  parade 
them  even  to  my  nearest  relations." 


CHAPTEE  IX. 

MIDDLE    LIFE. 

On  his  return  from  liis  Italian  tour  my  brother  at  once 
commenced  practice  in  the  Ecclesiastical  Courts,  and  took 
a  small  house  in  Bell  Yard,  Doctors'  Commons,  where  he 
went  to  reside,  and  which  lie  describes  to  his  mother  as 
follows : — 

"April  1851. — I  am  in  excellent  health  and  spirits.  T 
have  a  funny  little  house  here :  there  are  three  floors  and 
two  rooms  on  each :  then  there  is  a  ground-floor,  the  front 
]'oora  of  which  I  use  as  an  office,  and  the  back  room  as  a 
bath  room,  for  I  stick  diligently  to  the  cold-water  system. 
A  kitchen  below  completes  my  establishment.  I  have  a 
liousekeeper,  who  sits  downstairs  in  the  kitchen  and  sleeps 
in  the  top  story ;  she  is  miraculously  clean  and  tidy,  and 
cooks  very  well,  although  I  never  dine  at  home.  She  is  also 
a  wonderful  gossip." 

Here  he  practised  for  a  few  years  regularly,  and  with 
very  fair  success,  but  his  professional  career  was  destined 
to  be  short  and  broken,  and  need  not  detain  us.  It  is  his 
home  life  with  which  we  are  concerned,  and  it  was  the 


CH.  IX.]  MIDDLE  LIFE.  131 

pressure  of  what  he  looked  upon  as  a  higher  home  duty 
which  decided  him,  after  a  struggle,  to  abandon  his  profes- 
sion. He  was  married  in  the  autumn  of  1852,  and,  in  the 
course  of  a  few  years,  the  health  of  his  wife's  mother  Ly 
adoption  made  it  desirable  that  they  should  be  always 
with  her,  and  that  she  should  spend  the  winter  months 
abroad.  When  it  became  clear  that  this  was  necessary, 
he  accepted  it,  and  made  the  best  of  it ;  though  I  find 
abundant  traces  in  his  correspondence  of  the  effort  which 
it  required  to  do  so.  Thus  he  writes  from  Pau,  the  place 
fixed  upon  for  their  foreign  winter  residence,  "  I  always 
found  that  changing  one's  residence  and  plans  gave  one  a 
fit  of  the  blues  for  a  time,  sometimes  longer,  sometimes 
shorter."  And  again  :  "  The  business  of  life  is  to  be  bored 
in  all  directions.  You  must  not  imagine,  however,  that  I 
am  ill,  or  out  of  spirits.  I  have  no  right  to  be  either,  and 
won't  be,  please  God."  But  the  necessary  want  of  regular 
employment,  the  sinking  into  what  is  called  "  an  idle  man," 
and  abandoning  all  active  part  in  "  the  struggle  for  exist- 
ence," was  no  small  trial  to  one  who  held  that  the  "  full 
employment  of  all  powers,  physical,  mental,  and  spiritual, 
is  the  true  secret  of  happiness,  so  that  no  time  may  be  left 
for  morbid  self-analysis."  You  are  all  perhaps  too  young 
to  understand  this,  and  probably,  when  you  think  about 
such  matters  at  all,  imagine  that  the  happiest  life  must  be 
one  in  which  you  would  only  have  to  amuse  yourselves. 
It  may,  I  hope,  shake  any  such  belief  to  find  that  the 

E  2 


132  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

period  ia  my  brother's  life  in  which  he  was  thus  thrown 
on  his  own  resources,  and  had  the  most  complete  liberty 
to  follow  his  own  fancies,  was  just  that  in  which  you  may 
find  traces  of  ennui,  and  a  tendency  to  be  dissatisfied  with 
the  daily  task  of  getting  through  time. 

He  took  the  best  course  of  getting  rid  of  the  blues,  how- 
ever, by  throwing  himself  heartily  into  such  occupations 
as  were  to  be  had  at  Pau.  The  chief  of  these  was  a  Pen 
and  Pencil  Club,  to  which  most  of  the  English  and 
American  residents  belonged,  and  of  which  he  became  the 
secretary.  Besides  the  ordinary  meetings,  for  which  he 
wrote  a  number  of  vers  de  society,  on  the  current  topics 
and  doings  of  the  place,  the  Club  indulged  in  private 
theatricals.  On  these  occasions  he  was  stage  manager, 
and  frequently  author ;  most  of  the  charades  and  short 
pieces,  which  you  have  seen,  and  acted  in,  at  Offley,  were 
originally  written  by  him  for  the  Pen  and  Pencil  Club  at 
Pau,  "  It  was  a  mild  literary  society,"  an  old  friend 
writes  to  me,  "  which  he  carried  almost  entirely  on  his 
own  shoulders,  and  made  a  success."  Then  he  set  to  work 
for  the  first  time  to  cultivate  in  earnest  his  talent  for 
music,  and  took  to  playing  the  violoncello,  communicating 
intelligence  of  his  own  progress,  and  of  musical  doings  at 
Pau  generally,  to  his  sister,  whom  he  looked  upon  as  his 
guide  and  instructress.  These  were  not  always  devoid  of 
incident,  as  for  instance  the  following : — 


ex.]  MIDDLE  LIFE.  133 

"Pau,  Villa  Salusbury. 
"We  have  an  opera  here  this  season.  The  jorima  donna 
and  the  tenor  are  good ;  the  rest  so-so.  The  orchestra  and 
chorus  bad ;  the  basso  execrable :  when  he  doesn't  bellow 
like  a  bull,  he  neighs  like  a  horse;  however,  he  does  his 
best.  I  don't  know  how  you  feel,  but  to  me  a  mediocre 
opera  is  an  unmitigated  bore.  I  vrould  rather  by  half  hear 
a  good  French  play.  There  was  a  scene  at  the  opera  the 
other  night.  The  conductor  of  the  orchestra  is  the  amant 
of  the  contralto.  Just  before  the  opera  began,  the  conductor 
in  a  jealous  fit  tried  to  strangle  the  contralto :  whereupon 
the  basso  profundo  knocked  the  conductor  down  :  where- 
upon the  conductor  ran  off  towards  the  river  to  drown 
himself:  whereupon  he  was  knocked  down  again  to  save 
his  life :  whereupon  he  threatened  to  cut  everybody's 
throat :  whereupon  he  was  locked  up  in  prison,  and  there 
remains.  So  there  is  no  conductor,  and  the  contralto  can't 
sing  from  the  throttling." 

The  violoncello  soon  grew  to  be  a  resource,  and  I  believe 
he  played  really  well,  though  he  used  to  groan  to  me  as 
to  the  impossibility  of  adapting  adult  fingers  to  the  work, 
and  to  mourn  over  the  barbarism  of  our  school  days,  when 
no  one  ever  thought  of  music  as  a  possible  study  for  boys. 
Soon,  however,  other  olijects  of  deeper  interest  began  to 
gather  round  him.  His  eldest  boy  was  born  in  1853,  his 
second  in  1855,  during  their  siimmer  in  England. 

"The  young  one,"  he  writes  to  his  sister,  "is  like  his 
mamma,  they  say,  and  is  going  to  be  dark,  which  will  be  a 
good  contrast  to  Herbert,  who  is  a  regular  Saxon.  I  want 
his  (Herbert's)  yellow  hair  to  grow  long  that  it  may  be 


134  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

done  into  a  pigtail;  I  think  it  would  look  quaint  and 
create  a  sensation  among  the  Cockneys,  but  I'm  afraid  I 
shan't  get  my  own  way.  To  return  to  the  new  arrival,  you 
will  be  happy  to  hear  that  he  inherits  your  talent  ibr  music  ; 
he  is  always  meandering  witli  his  hands  as  if  he  was  play- 
ing the  violoncello  ;  it  is  a  positive  fact,  I  assure  you,  and 

makes  me  laugh  to  bursting  point.    A must  have  been 

more  struck  with  my  performances  than  I  had  credited. 
I  feel  quite  flattered  to  possess  an  infant  phenomenon  wdio 
played  (or  would  have  played)  the  violoncello,  if  we  had  let 
him,   from  his  birth.     In   the  meantime  that  instrument 

has  been  somewhat  neglected  by  me.    A ,  the  baby,  and 

the  partridges  (what  a  conjunction),  divide  my  allegiance. 
However,  my  music  mania  is  as  strong  as  ever,  in  spite 
of  the  rather  excruciating  tones  which  all  beginners  draw 
from  the  instrument :  they  tell  me  that  the  sounds  resemble 
the  bellowings  of  a  bereaved  cow ;  luckily  the  house  is  a 
large  one," 

He  took  to  farming  also,  as  another  outlet  for  superfluous 
energy,  but  without  mucli  greater  success  than  generally 
falls  to  the  lot  of  amateurs.  Indeed,  his  long  winter 
absences  from  England  kept  him  from  gaining  anything 
more  than  a  superficial  knowledge  of  agriculture,  such  as 
is  disclosed  in  the  following  note  to  his  mother,  in  answer 
to  inquiries  as  to  crops  and  prospects  : — 

"Farming  is  better  certainly  this  year  than  the  last, 
but  we  farmers  always  grumble,  as  you  know,  and  I  don't 
like  to  say  anything  until  the  new  wheat  is  threshed.  You 
ought  to  sow  your  tares  and  rye  immediately,  and  they 
will  do  very  well  after  potatoes ;  they  ought  to  be  well 
manured.    If  you  mean  by  '  rye '  Italian  rye-grass,  I  don't 


IX.]  MIDDLE  LIFE.  136 

exactly  know  when  it  is  best  to  sow  it ;  in  the  spring  I 
believe,  but  I  have  never  had  any  yet,  and  you  must  ask 
about  it.  One  thing  I  know,  that  it  ought  to  have  liquid 
manure,  to  be  put  on  directly  -after  cutting ;  this  will  give 
you  a  fresh  crop  in  a  little  more  than  a  month." 

When  the  Volunteer  movement  began,  he  threw  him- 
self into  it  at  once ;  for  no  man  was  more  impatient  of,  or 
humiliated  by,  the  periodical  panics  which  used  to  seize 
the  country.  He  helped  to  raise  a  corps  in  his  own  neigh- 
bourhood, of  which  he  became  captain,  and  went  to  one 
of  the  first  classes  for  Volunteers  at  the  School  of  INIusketry, 
to  make  himself  competent  to  teach  his  men.     As  to  the 

result  he  writes : — 

"  Undercliff,  18G0. 

/  "  Our  schooling  at  Hythe  terminated  on  Friday  last,  on 
which  day  100  lunatics  were  let  loose  upon  society.  I  say 
lunatics,  because  all  of  us  just  now  have  but  one  idea,  and 
talk,  think,  and  dream  of  nothing  but  the  ritle  (call  it 
]\Iiss  Enfield)  morning,  noon,  and  night.  Colonel  Welsford, 
the  chief  instructor,  is  a  charming  man  and  a  delightful 
lecturer,  and  withal  a  greater  hmatic  than  any  of  us — ^just 
the  right  man  in  the  right  place.  1  shot  fairly,  but  did 
not  distinguish  myself  as  Harry  did." 

I  spoke  of  his  "vers  de  socUte"  just  now,  and  in  this 
connection  will  here  give  you  a  specimen  of  them.  The 
expenses  of  the  corps  of  course  considerably  exceeded  the 
Government  grant,  and  the  deficiency  had  to  be  met  some- 
how. My  brother  started  a  theatrical  performance  in  the 
Town  Hall,  Hitchin,  as  a  method  at  once  of  making  both 


186  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  Lchat. 


ends  meet,  and  of  interesting  the  townspeople  in  the  corps. 
The  last  piece  of  the  entertainment  was  one  of  his  own. 
The  characters  were  played  chiefly  by  members  of  his  own 
family.  He  himself  acted  the  part  of  a  pompous  magis- 
trate, and  at  the  close  spoke  the  following 

EPILOGUE. 

"  Silence  in  Court !  what's  this  unseemly  rumpus  ? 

Attention  to  the  parting  words  of  Bumpus. 

Tired  of  disguise,  of  borrowed  rank  and  station. 

Thus  in  a  trice  I  work  my  transformation. 

His  wig  and  nose  removed,  the  beak  appears 

A  simple  officer  of  Volunteers, 

Who  to  himself  restored,  and  sick  of  mumming, 

Begs  leave  to  thank  you  each  and  all  for  coming. 

Spite  of  cross  roads,  dark  lanes,  tenacious  clay. 

And  benches  not  too  soft,  to  hear  our  play. 

Next,  to  those  friends  my  warmest  thanks  are  due 

Who  give  their  aid  to-night,  but  chief  to  you 

Who  for  my  sake,  and  only  for  to-day, 

O'ercome  your  natural  shyness  of  display. 

Now  comes  the  hardest  portion  of  my  task, 

A  most  momentous  question  'tis  to  ask. 

I  pause  for  your  reply  with  bated  breath — 

I  humbly  hope  you've  not  been  bored  to  death  ? 

Thanks  for  the  signal  which  success  assures ; 

Welcome  to  all,  but  most  to  amateurs. 

Thanks,  gentle  friends,  your  welcome  cheers  proclaim 

We  have  not  altogether  missed  our  aim. 

Not  ours  your  hearts  to  thrill,  your  tears  to  move. 

With  Hamlet's  madness,  Desdemona's  love. 
„  We  dare  not  bid  in  high  heroic  strain 


n,]  MIDDLE  LIFE.  137 

Wolsey  or  Richelieu  rise  and  breathe  again. 

We  walk  in  humbler  paths,  and  cannot  hope 

(To  quote  the  spirit-stirring  verse  of  Pope) 

'  To  wake  the  soul  with  tender  strokes  of  Art, 

To  raise  the  genius  and  to  mend  the  heart ; 

To  make  mankind  in  conscious  virtue  bold, 

Live  o'er  each  scene  and  be  what  they  behold.' 

No — with  deep  reverence  for  these  nobler  views, 

We  seek  not  to  instruct  you,  but  amuse  ; 

To  make  you  wiser,  better,  we  don't  claim — 

To  make  you  laugh,  our  only  end  and  aim. 

And  as  the  test  of  everything,  men  say, 

Is  just  this  simple  question — does  it  pay? 

Well,  then  (I  speak  for  self  and  comrades  present), 

Tliis  acting  pays  us  well ;  we  find  it  pleasant. 

If  at  the  same  time  it  amuses  you. 

We  reap  a  double  gaiu  vouchsafed  to  few. 

To  please  ourselves  and  please  our  neighbours  too. 

Besides,  to-night  in  more  material  seuse, 

It  pays  us  well  in  shillings,  pounds,  and  pence. 

Your  dollars  flush  our  regimental  till. 

But  in  more  sterling  coin  we're  richer  still : 

Yes,  doubly,  trebly,  rich  in  your  goodwill. 

And  so  farewell !  but  stop,  before  we  part. 

We'll  sing  one  song  and  sing  it  from  the  heart. 

Just  one  song  more :  you  guess  the  song  I  mean : 

Our  brave  time-honoured  hymn, '  God  save  the  Queen.' " 

He  continued  also  to  act  as  mentor  to  his  younger 
brothers,  two  of  whom  went  in  due  course  to  Cambridge, 
and,  to  liis  great  delight,  pulled  in  their  college  racing 
boat  (Trinity  Hall),  which  was  then  at  the  head  of  the 
river.     He  often  visited  them  at  Cambridge,  and,  when- 


138  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

ever  he  could  manage  it,  would  spend  some  part  of  the 
vacation  with  them,  joining  them  in  all  their  amuse- 
ments, and  helping  them  in  their  studies.  You  may 
judge  of  the  sort  of  terms  they  were  on,  by  this  extract 
from  a  letter  to  his  mother  in  August  1856  : — 

"We  shall  be  very  happy  to  join  you  in  Scotland. 
I  want  to  know  whether  good  fishing  tackle  is  procurable 
at  Stirling,  or  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Callender.  At 
Edinbro'  and  Glasgow  I  know  it  can  be  obtained,  and 
much  cheaper  than  in  London.  Perhaps  Harry  can 
inform  me,  if  he  is  not  too  much  occupied  in  discovering 
the  value  of  %,  which  I  believe  is  the  great  object  of 
mathematics  (I  speak  it  not  proffinel}').  Tell  Harry 
and  Arthur  I  expect  to  find  them  both  without  breeches. 

*  Those  swelling  calves  were  never  meant 
To  shun  the  public  eye,' 

as  Dr.  Watts  remarks,  or  would  have  remarked  if  he 
had  written  on  the  subject." 

Such  occupations  as  these,  Avith  magistrate's  work,  and 
field  sports  taken  in  moderation,  served  to  fill  up  his  time, 
and  would  have  satisfied  most  men  situated  as  he  was. 
But  he  could  never  in  all  these  years  get  the  notion  quite 
out  of  his  head  (though  it  wore  off  later)  that  he  was 
not  doing  his  fair  share  of  work  in  the  world,  and 
was  a  useless  kind  of  personage,  for  whom  no  one  was 
much  the  better  but  his  wife  and  children,  and  whom 


IX.]  MIDDLE  LIFE.  130 

nobody  but  they  would  miss.  This  feeling  showed  itself 
in  his  immense  respect  for  those  who  were  working  in 
regular  professions,  and  in  the  most  conscieTitious  scrupu- 
lousness about  taking  up  their  time.  Often  he  has  come 
to  my  chambers,  and,  after  hurrying  through  some  piece 
of  family  business,  has  insisted  on  gomg  away  directly, 
though  I  might  not  have  seen  mm  lor  a  month,  and  Wiis 
eager  to  talk  on  fifty  subjects.  The  sight  of  open  papers 
was  enough  for  him ;  and  he  had  not  practised  long 
enough  to  get  the  familiarity  which  breeds  contempt,  and 
to  know  how  gladly  the  busiest  lawyer  puts  aside  an 
Abstract,  or  Interrogatories  in  Chancery,  for  the  chance 
of  a  pleasant  half-hour's  gossip. 

I  think,  however,  that  I  can  show  you  clearly  enough, 
in  a  very  few  words,  wliat  his  real  work  in  the  world  was 
during  these  yeais,  and  how  perfectly  unconscious  he  was 
that  he  was  doing  it  faithfully.  In  1857,  your  grandfather 
had  a  dangerous  attack  of  illness,  from  which  he  never 
recovered.  George  was  with  him  and  nursed  him  durin*? 
the  crisis.  As  soon  as  he  was  well  enough  to  use  a  pen, 
he  wrote  as  follows  to  Lady  Salusbury  : — 

"  Amongst  other  things  it  occurs  to  me  how  much  I 
have  had  to  thank  God  for  through  life,  and  how  my 
family  have  always  drawn  together  in  the  way  I  wished 
them.  And  here  I  should  be  doing  injustice  to  George,  if  I 
did  not  in  my  own  mind  trace  much  of  this  happy  result  to 
his  quiet  and  imperceptible  influence  as  an  elder  brother, 
in  many  ways  of  which  my  wife  and  I  were  not  c-xactiy 


140  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

cognizant  at  the  time.  Perhaps  I  am  thinking  more 
f.bout  him  just  now  as  he  was  in  his  natural  place  as  my 
right-hand  man  when  I  was  taken  unwell ;  and  when  I 
say  truly,  that  neither  his  mother  or  I  ever  had  even  an 
unkind  word  or  disrespectful  look  I'rom  him  since  he  was 
born,  and  that  his  constant  study  through  life,  as  far  as  we 
are  concerned,  has  been  to  spare  us  ratlier  than  give  us 
trouble,  and  throw  his  own  i:)ersonal  interests  over  much 
more  than  we  chose  to  allow  him,  it   is  especially  i'or  the 

purpose  of  giving  dear  A (her  adopted  daughtei)  a 

precedent  to  quote  with  her  own  lips  in  the  training  of 
her  own  boys  which  I  know  will  be  particularly  accept- 
able to  herself.  It  is  the  last  theme  on  which  he  would 
like  to  expatiate,  but  that  siich  was  my  deliberate  and 
true  opinion,  will  be,  I  doubt  not,  one  of  these  days,  a, 
source  of  satisfaction  to  them  both,  and  to  the  children." 

Your  grandfather  died  shortly  afterwards,  and  a  year 
later  George  wrote  to  his  mother : — 

"  I  feel  that  we  have  great  cause  for  gratitude  and 
rejoicing  as  a  family ;  I  mean  for  the  way  in  which  we 
hang  together,  and  the  utter  absence  of  any  subject  of 
discord  or  disagreement  between  any  of  our  members. 
I  think  we  may  well  be  happy,  even  while  thinking  of 
what  happened  this  time  last  year,  as  1  have  done  very 
frequently  of  late." 

He  would  have  been  impatient,  almost  angry,  if  any- 
one had  told  him  that  the  "  hanging  together,"  at  which  he 
rejoiced,  was  mainly  his  own  doing. 

In  the  village,  too,  he  was  beginning  to  find  occupation 
of  the  most  useful  kind.  Thus  he  opened  a  village  reading- 


a,]  MIDDLE  LIFE.  141 

room  for  the  labourers,  -wliicli  was  furnished  witli  books 
and  papers,  and  lighted  and  warmed,  every  evening  from 
seven  to  nine.  "  Hitherto  it  is  a  great  success,"  he  writes 
in  1868  :  "  we  have  fifty  members  who  subscribe  2d.  a 
week,  and  we  give  them  a  cup  of  coffee  and  a  biscuit  for 
Id.  Some  of  them  drink  five  or  six  cups  a  night. 
Whether  coffee  will  continue  to  beat  beer  I  don't  know, 
but  at  present  it  keeps  them  from  the  public-house,  and 
saves  their  wages  for  their  wives.  Some  of  them  are 
very  fond  of  reading,  and  the  rest  play  draughts  and 
dominoes."  Then  there  were  frequent  "  laundry  entertain- 
ments,"— penny  readings,  or  theatrical  performances  in  the 
big  laundry, — of  which  his  sister  writes :  "  The  boys  and 
Mr.  Phillips  and  I  used  to  make  the  music,  but  the  great 
hits  of  the  evening  were  always  George's.  He  used  to 
recite  '  The  One-horse  Chay,'  or  some  Ingoldsby  Legend,  or 
'  The  Old  Woman  of  Berkeley,'  or  sing  a  comic  song,  and  the 
people  liked  his  performances  better  than  anything.  Like 
all  very  reserved  people,  he  acted  wonderfully  well,  and 
always  knew  how  every  part  should  be  done,  so  he  used  to 
coach  us  all  when  a  play  was  being  got  up.  But  he  would 
never  criticise  unless  asked  :  he  always  thought  that  people 
knew  as  well  as  he  did  how  to  do  their  parts,  but  they 
did  not.  He  was  always  so  droll  on  these  occasions. 
When  a  performance  was  proposed  by  the  boys,  he  used 
to  say  it  was  too  much  trouble,  and  that  he  wanted  to  be 
left  quiet.     But  they  always  got  their  way,  and  when  it 


1 12  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

•was  inevitable  he  would  learn  liis  entire  part  while  we 
others  were  masteiing  a  page.  I  was  always  whip, 
because  I  could  not  stand  doing  anything  by  halves,  and 
used  to  drive  everyone  mercilessly  till  the  scenes  began 
to  go  smoothly.  He  would  sometimes  rehearse  his  part 
almost  under  his  breath,  gabbling  it  off  with  the  book  in 
his  hand,  and  then  I  would  remonstrate,  and  he  would 
go  through  it  splendidly,  as  well  as  on  the  day  of  per- 
formance." 

But  the  reform  which  he  had  most  at  heart  he  never 
lived  to  carry  out.  The  industry  of  straw-plaiting,  which 
prevails  in  the  neighbourhood,  while  it  enables  the  women 
and  girls  to  earn  high  wages,  makes  them  bad  housewives, 
all  their  cooking  and  cleaning  being  neglected,  while  they 
run  in  and  out  of  neighbours'  houses,  gossiping  and 
plaiting.  In  the  hope  of  curing  this  evil  he  looked 
forward  to  fitting  up  a  large  barn  in  the  village  as  a  sort 
of  general  meeting-place.  Here,  when  he  had  made  the 
roof  air-tight,  and  laid  down  a  good  floor,  there  was  to  be 
a  stove  for  cooking  and  baking,  and  appliances  for  in- 
struction in  other  household  work.  Under  his  wife  and 
sister  there  were  to  be  "  cooking  classes,  sewing  classes, 
and  singing  classes ;  and,  in  the  evenings,  entertainments 
for  the  poor  people,  a  piano  and  night  classes,  some- 
times theatricals,  and  often  concerts,  and  when  the  boys 
wanted  to  dance  they  M-ere  to  have  their  dances  there.  He 
used  to  think  that  constant  meetings  in  the  barn  v^ould 


IX.]  MIDDLE  LIFE.  143 

humanize  lis  all,  and  be  a  very  pleasant  thing  for 
making  rich  and  poor  meet  on  equal  terms."  It  is 
perhaps  vain  to  dwell  upon  such  things,  but  I  cannot 
help  hoping  that  some  day  those  of  you  who  have  the 
opportunity  of  realizing  such  plans  may  remember  to 
what  purposes  the  big  barn  was  once  destined.  Of  one 
other  part  of  his  village  work,  his  Sunday  evening  classes 
for  the  big  boys,  I  shall  have  to  speak  presently. 

But  you  must  not  suppose  from  anything  in  this  chapter 
that  he  ever  lost  his  interest  in  politics,  or  public  affairs. 
He  was  always  a  keen  politician,  retaining,  however,  all 
his  early  beliefs.  "You  have  all  got  far  beyond  me,"  he 
writes  to  his  sister ;  "  and  my  dear  mother  turning  Radical 
in  her  old  age  is  delightful."  Perhaps  the  most  ardent 
politician  amongst  us  all  is  the  best  witness  to  call  on 
this  subject.  "  I  don't  think  anything  was  more  remark- 
able about  George  than  his  politics.  He,  who  was  so  good 
an  old  Tory  in  many  ways,  showed  that  he  believed  in  a 
universal  principle  and  duty  underlying  all  the  political 
opinions  about  the  best  means  of  carrying  out  reforms.  I 
think  it  is  very  rare,  when  people  are  discussing  politics, 
to  find  this  constant  recognition  of  something  beyond 
party  nostrums.  But  (as  in  his  father)  I  have  always 
detected  it  in  George;  and,  when  I  have  got  very  hot 
whilst  propounding  Kadicalism  against  all  the  rest  here, 
have  always  found  sympathy  from  him  at  the  bottom  ; 
and  I  have  always  felt  at  last  how  much  more  truly  liberal 


144  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  '    [chap. 

he  was  at  heart  than  we  Radicals,  because  we  are  always 
wanting  to  force  on  our  opinions  our  own  way,  whilst  in 
him  I  always  recognized  a  divine  sort  of  justice  and 
patience,  which  used  to  make  me  feel  very  conceited,  and 
wanting  in  faith.  He  was  horn  with  aristocratic  instincts, 
being  by  nature  intensely  sensitive  and  refined,  with  a 
loathing  of  anything  blatant  and  in  bad  taste,  and  with 
an  intense  love  of  justice ;  and  the  unwise,  violent,  foolish 
way  in  which  many  men  like expound  their  doc- 
trines disgusted  him  beyond  measure,  though  he  would 
always  recognize  the  real  truth  that  lay  at  the  bottom  of 
Radicalism." 

But  he  shall  speak  for  himself  on  one  great  event,  which 
you  are  all  old  enough  to  remember,  the  late  war  between 
France  and  Germany.  Almost  the  first  incident  of  the 
war — the  despatch  of  the  then  Emperor,  speaking  of  the 
Prince  Imperial's  "baptism  of  fire" — roused  his  indignation 
so  strongly  that  it  found  vent  in  the  following  lines : — 

*        By  !  baby  Bunting, 

Daddy's  gone  a  hunting, 
Bath  of  human  blood  to  win, 
To  float  his  baby  Bunting  in. 

By,  baby  Bunting. 

"What  means  this  hunting? 

Listen  !  baby  Bunting — 

Wounds — that  you  may  sleep  at  ease. 

Death — that  you  may  reign  in  peace. 

Sweet  baby  Bunting, 


IX.]  MIDDLE  LIFE.  UG 

Tes,  baby  Bunting ! 

Jolly  fun  is  hunting ! 

Jacques  in  front  shall  bleed  and  toil, 

You  in  safety  gorge  the  spoil. 

Sweet  baby  Bunting. 

Mount !  baby  Bunting, 
Eide  to  Daddy's  hunting ! 
On  its  quiet  cocky- horse, 
Two  miles  in  the  rear,  of  course. 

Precious  baby  Bunting. 

Ah,  baby  Bunting ! 
Oftentimes  a  hunting, 
Eager  riders  get  a  spill — 
Let  us  hope  your  Daddy  will. 
\  Poor  little  Bunting. 

Perpend,  my  small  friend, 
After  all  this  hunting. 
When  the  train  at  last  moves  on 
Daddy's  gingerbread  "salon" 

May  get  a  shunting. 

Poor  baby  Bunting ! 
Curse  on  such  a  hunting ! 
Woe  to  him  who  bloods  a  child 
For  ambitious  visions  wild. 

Poor  baby  Bunting ! 

"  October  6th,  1870.—  I  am,  I  think,  rapidly  changing 
sides  about  this  horrid  war.  You  know  I  was  a  tremen- 
dous Prussian  at  the  outset,  but  (although  the  French 
deserve  all  they  get)  I  really  can't  stand  the  bombard- 
ment of  Paris  ;  besides,  Bismarck  is  repulsive." 


146  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTREB.  [chap. 


"  Offlet,  1871. 
"  I  think  that  the  high  and  mighty  tone  assumed  by 
Herr  Gustave  Soiling  (German  superhuman  excellence, 
Handel,  Beethoven,  Minnesingers,  &c.)  the  worst  possible 
vehicle  for  the  defence  of  the  German  terms  of  peace. 
When  a  man  talks  '  buncombe,'  it  shows  that  he  has  an 
imeasy  feeling  that  his  case  is  a  weak  one.  The  cynical 
line  is  the  right  one  for  the  Germans  ;  why  not  say,  in  the 
words  of  Wordsworth, — 

'  And  why  ?     Because,  the  good  old  rule 
Sufficeth  them  ;  the  sim])]e  plan, 
That  thej''  should  take  who  have  the  power. 
And  they  should  keep  who  can.' 

But  pray  don't  say  this  to  our  cousin,  and  thank  her  for 
her  translation.  You  know  what  I  think  about  the 
imatter  ;  I  would  have  gone  to  war  with  the  French  to  stop 
•the  war  ;  and  I  would  have  gone  to  war  with  the  Germans 
to  stop  the  peace.  There's  an  Irish  view  of  it,  from  a 
sincere  war-hater." 


The  person  who  knew  him  best  once  wrote  of  your 
grandfather's  politics  :  "  Men  of  all  parties  speak  of  him  as 
belonging  to  their  clique.  This  proves  to  me,  if  I  had 
required  the  proof  to  strengthen  the  conviction,  that  there 
is  a  point  on  the  plain  of  politics  at  which  the  moderate 
Tory,  the  sensible  Whig,  and  the  right-minded  Eadical,  in 
otlier  words  all  true  patriots,  meet ;  like  the  vanishing  point 
in  a  picture  to  which  all  true  and  correct  lines  tend.  And 
thus  it  is  with  him  :  he  has  reached  that  point,  and  there 
he  foregathers  with  all  of  all  parties,  who,  throwing  aside 


rx.]  MIDDLE  LIFE.  147 

party  prejudice,  act  and  think  for  the  good  of  their 
fellow-creatures." 

The  description,  I  cannot  but  think,  applied  equally 
well  to  my  brother,  though  he  continued  nominally  a 
Tory  to  the  end,  and,  as  you  will  all  recollect,  lived  as 
quiet,  methodical  a  country  life  as  if  he  had  no  interests 
in  the  world  beyond  crops,  field  sports,  and  petty  sessions. 
But  that  it  must  have  required  a  considerable  effort  on  his 
part  to  do  this  comes  out  in  much  of  his  most  intimate 
coriespoudence.  For  instance,  only  a  month  or  two  before 
his   death  he  writes  to  his  sister : — "  Thanks,  many,  for 

your  letter,  and  ]Mrs.  S 's.     Hers  is  delightful,  and  I 

so  fully  understand  her  feeling.  I  always  feel  uncomfort- 
able in  point-device  places,  where  the  footman  is  always 
brushing  your  hat,  and  will  insist  upon  putting  out  your 
clothes,  and  turning  your  socks  ready  to  put  on,  and,  if 
you  say  half  a  word,  will  even  put  them  on  for  you.  How 
I  hate  being  '  valeted  I '     I  should  like  to  black  my  own 

boots,  like  Mr. ,  but  th-en  he  is  (or  was)  a  master  of 

foxhounls,  and,  being  of  course  on  that  account  a  king 
of  men,  can  do  as  he  pleases,  in  spite  of  Mrs.  Grundy. 
1  am  also  a  gvpsey  (is  that  rightly  spelt  ?  That  word,  and 
some  others,  are  stumbling-blocks  to  me ;  I  am  afraid  all 
my  spelling  is  an  affair  of  memory),  a  Bohemian  at  heart. 
I  sometimes  feel  an  almost  irresistible  desire  to  doff  my 
breeches  and  paint  myself  blue.  I  should  also  like  (I 
woidd  limit  myself  to  one  month  per  annum)  to  go  with  a 

L  2 


148  MEMOIR  OF  4  BROTHER.  [chap. 

carpet-bag  to  tlie  nearest  station,  and  to  rough  it  in  all 

sorts  of  outlandish  places — but  then  A can't  rough  it, 

and  there  are  the  brats,  and  lots  of  other  impediments. 
The  very  act  of  wandering  anywhere  delights  me.  I 
think  we  spoil  half  the  enjoyment  of  life  by  being  too 
particular ;  how  terrible  dinner-parties  are  becoming ! 
But  enough  of  my  sermon.  In  spite  of  ray  secret  longings 
I  shall  continue  to  do  as  my  neighbours,  and  it  would  be 
wicked  in  my  case  to  be  discontented.  They  threatened 
to  nominate  me  Chairman  of  the  Board  of  Guardians  here, 
but  finding  that  the  Vice-chairman  was  standing  (and 
thinking  him  better  qualified),  I  declined  any  contest,  and 
was  not  put  up.  I  am  sorry  for  it,  for  the  office,  although 
troublesome,  is  capable  of  being  made  useful,  and  I  think 
I  should  have  liked  it  in  time;"  and  then  comes  a  sen- 
tence which  may  serve  to  explain  to  some  of  you  your 

feelings  towards  him — "  I  cannot  forgive for  putting 

"  (one  of  his  nephews)  "  on  a  bolting  horse.      If  you 

do  mount  a  boy,  you  ought  to  give  him  the  cleverest  and 
quietest  horse  in  your  stable,  and  no  sportsman  would 
do  otherwise." 

There  is  one  more  trait  in  his  character  which  I  must 
not  omit  here,  as  I  wish  to  give  3'ou  as  perfect  8  know- 
ledge of  him  as  I  have  myself.  I  have  already  told  you 
how  very  scrupulous  he  was  with  regard  to  money  matters. 
He  had,  indeed,  a  horror  of  debt  which  made  him  morbidly 
sensitive  on  the  subject ;  and  he  recognized  the  fact,  and 


IX J  MIDDLE  LIFE.  119 

treated  himself  for  it  as  he  would  have  done  for  a  fit  of 
bile,  or  any  other  physical  disorder.  On  more  than  one 
occasion,  when  some  unloosed  for  expenditure  seemed 
likely  to  bring  on  a  more  than  usually  severe  attack, 
he  cured  himself  by  some  piece  of  unwonted  extrava- 
gance, such  as  buying  a  diamond  ornament  for  his  wife, 
or  making  a  handsome  present  to  some  poor  relation. 
The  remedy  answ^ered  perfectly  in  his  case;  but  I  am 
bound  to  add  that  it  is  one  which  I  cannot  recomm'end 
as  a  specific  without  the  warning,  that,  before  using  it, 
you  must  satisfy  yourselves,  as  he  always  did,  that  there 
were  no  reasonable  grounds  for  uneasiness. 

But  if  he  sometimes  worried  himself  about  money,  he 
kept  his  anxiety  to  himself,  and  was  constantly  doing 
the  most  liberal  acts  in  the  most  thoughtful  manner.  Of 
the  many  instances  I  could  give  of  this,  I  select  one, 
■which  an  old  friend  has  communicated  to  me  with  per- 
mission to  mention  it.  I  give  it  in  his  own  words  : — 
"  There  is  one  little  incident  connected  with  his  personal 
relations  to  me  which  I  shall  always  remember  with 
feelings  of  gratitude  and  pleasure.  When  the  Suez  Canal 
was  opened  I  had  an  offer  of  a  free  passage  out  and 
home  in  a  P.  and  0.  steamer,  and  I  was  rather  exercised 
in  my  mind  by  not  feeling  it  prudent  to  accept,  as  I 
knew  that  living  in  Egypt  for  a  fortnight  at  tiiat  time 
would  be  very  expensive,  and  I  knew  that  I  could  not 
afford  it.     I  happened  to  be  writing  to  him  about  that 


150  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [ch.  ix. 

time,  and  mentioned  this  in  my  letter.  By  return  of  post 
he  sent  me  a  cheque  for  £50,  begging  me  to  accept  it 
as  a  loan,  to  be  paid  when  I  had  as  much  to  spare,  or 
never  if  I  preferred  it.  I  did  not  take  advantage  of  his 
generous  kindness,  and  I  declare  I  almost  regret  now 
that  I  did  not,  as  I  believe  I  should  have  given  him 
sincere  pleasure  in  so  doing." 


CHAPTEE  X. 
LETTERS  TO  HIS  BOYS. 

The  doubts  as  to  his  own  usefulness  in  the  world,  noticed 
in  the  last  chapter,  wore  off  naturally  as  he  fell  into  the 
toutine  of  country  life ;  but  it  was  the  growth  of  the 
younger  generation — of  you  for  whom  this  sketch  is 
written — which  found  him  in  work  and  interest  during  the 
last  years  of  his  life.  I  could  never  have  envied  him  any- 
thing; but  if  there  was  one  talent  of  his  more  than  another 
which  I  have  longed  to  share,  it  was  his  power  of  winning, 
not  only  the  love,  but  the  frank  coutidence,  of  his  own,  and 
all  other  boys.  I  think  the  secret  was,  that  he  was  far 
more  in  sympathy  with  them ;  could  realize  more  vividly 
their  pleasures,  and  troubles,  than  almost  any  man  of  his 
age.  And  then,  he  had  never  given  up  athletic  games 
altogether,  and  was  still  a  far  better  cricketer  and  football 
player  than  most  boys,  and  ready  to  join  them  in  their 
sports  whenever  they  seemed  to  wish  it. 

Few  things   gave  him  more  pleasure   than  taking  up 
again  the  thread  of  intimate  relations  with  his  old  school. 


152  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

which  he  did  when  his  ehlest  nephew  entered  there.  He 
accompanied  him,  to  give  him  confidence  and  a  good  start, 
and  characteristically  recounts  that  "  we  had  a  famous 
football  match,  and  I  got  my  legs  kicked  to  my  heart's 
content,  thereby  vividly  recalling  old  times."  He  remarks 
also,  at  the  same  time,  "  Engby  is  charming;  only  there  is 
rather  too  much  what  I  call  '  drill,'  in  the  play  as  in  the 
work — not  spontaneous  enough."  Not  long  after,  in  1866, 
his  own  eldest  boy  followed.  He  thus  details  that  event 
to  his  mother : — 

"  Offlet,  September  27,  1866. 
"  We  went  to  Eugby  last  Thursday,  and  the  new-comers 
were  examined  on  Friday  and  Saturday.  As  we  rather 
feared,  Herby  failed  to  get  into  the  Middle  School.  We 
were  rather  disappointed,  and  he,  poor  boy,  was  in  despair, 
as  he  was  afraid  Arnold  would  not  take  him,  and  that  he 
would  have  to  go  to  Mr.  Furness  ;  however,  Arnold  offered 
to  make  an  exception  in  his  case,  and  as  we  joyfully  ac- 
cepted it.  Master  Herby  was  duly  installed  in  his  uncle's 
study,  and  we  left  him  on  Monday  morning  very  happy, 
and  delighted  with  his  new  dignity  of  a  public  school  boy. 
Our  visit  to  Eugby  was  very  pleasant,  and  not  a  little 
exciting.  The  sch(j(jl  is  much  altered  since  my  time — the 
boys  are  much  more  accurately  dressed,  less  rollicking,  and 
more  decorous.  The  exceeding  quiet  of  the  town  and  play- 
ground struck  me  particularly.  I  should  like  to  have  seen 
a  little  more  running  about,  and  to  have  heard  a  little  more 
shouting;  in  fact  a  jolly  curly-haired  youngster  with  whom 
I  nuide  a  casual  acquaintance,  said  to  me,  '  I  am  sure,  sir, 
you  nmst  have  had  much  more  fun  in  your  time  than  we 
have.'     It  is  perhaps  just  as  well  that  'they  should  have 


X.]  LETTERS  TO  HIS  BOYS.  153 

become  quieter.  The  recognized  name  for  the  anxious 
parents  who  bring  their  boys  up  lor  examination  is  the 
'  Early  Fathers,'  because,  I  suppose,  they  take  care  to  be 
at  the  schoolroom-door  with  their  Hopefuls  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  before  the  examination  begins.  Jenny  Lind's  boy 
has  just  gone  to  the  School-house  ;  lie  is,  as  boys  say, 
awfully  'cute,  and  came  out  nearly  head  of  the  examina- 
tion. Jenny  Lind  was  at  chapel  herself  on  Sunday ;  her 
husband  has  (ione  much  for  the  music  of  the  school ;  the 
singing  in  chapel  is  exceedingly  good,  and  the  whole  service 
very  impressive.  The  last  time  I  was  in  chapel  there  was 
in  poor  Arnold's  time.  The  master  of  Herby's  form,  Mr. 
Buckoil,  was  my  old  master  when  I  was  in  the  shell  thirty 
years  ago  !  Also  jSIrs.  Jacomb,  of  the  principal  tuck  shop, 
used  to  spoil  our  stomachs  in  my  time.  I  felt  myself 
rather  boyish  again,  without  the  boisterous  spirits  and 
good  stomach  of  boyhood." 

From  this  time  he  constantly  visited  the  school,  and 
kept  his  mother  and  sister  informed  of  the  progress  of 
the  bo3's.     I  add  a  few  extracts  from  his  letters  : — 

"  Novemhcr,  1866. — I  was  at  Eugby  last  Saturday,  and 
stayed  over  Sunday.  Walter  breakfasted  with  me  ou 
Sunday  "morning,  and  very  jolly  he  was.  He  and  Herby 
won't  see  mucli  of  one  another  until  they  get  higher  in 
the  schoul.  Junior  boys  never  enter  each  other's  boarding- 
liouses.  This  is  very  absurd,  but  no  power  on  earth  can 
alter  boys'  fashions." 

"  Eaton  Socon,  November  2Qth,  1867. 

"  Boys'  letters  get  so  full  of  school  slang  that  it  is  hard 
to  imderstaud  them.     Herbert  says  in  his  last  that  he  got 


ir,4  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

100  lines  from  Chumley  for  tweaking.  This  was  Hebrew  to 
us,  as  'tweaking'  was  not  a  Rn.^by  word  in  my  time.  On 
referring  the  matter  to  Ned,  he  immediately  informed  us 
that '  tweaking '  in  boys'  language  was,  shooting  shot  out  of 
a  catapult,  or  other  warlike  engine." 

"  Offley,  1868. 

"  We  have  excellent  accounts  from  Rugby.  Herbert  is 
at  the  head  of  his  form,  and  evidently  finds  his  work 
easier,  and  is  in  a  high  state  of  encouragement.  One  of 
his  schoolfellows  has  just  shot  himself  in  the  leg  with  a 
*  saloon,'  meaning  a  saloon  pistol.  Hang  all  pistols,  but 
boys  will  have  them." 

"  Offley,   October  7th,  1868. 

"  Concerning  schoolboys'  etiquette,  it  beats  all  other 
etiquette.  Public  schools  cultivate  reserve,  and  so  strongly 
that  I  think  one  never  gets  quite  rid  of  it,  although  one 
gets  better  in  after-life.  I  wish  it  was  not  so  ;  it  is  one  of 
the  drawbacks  of  public  schools,  which  are  on  the  whole 
excellent  institutions.  One  must  take  the  sours  with  the 
sweets. 

"  Herbert  would  not  think  of  speaking  to  a  school- 
fellow (not  on  a  par  with  himself),  unless  first  spoken  to. 
And  in  ])ublic  schools  the  great  'swells'  are  those  distin- 
guished at  cricket,  football,  &c.  Then  come  the  sixth,  by 
virtue  of  their  legal  power.  Then  the  great  middle  class, 
including  clever,  stupid,  pleasant,  unpleasant,  &c.,  and  then 
the  new  boys,  and  the  very  small  boys.  All  the  power 
and  influence  is  in  the  hands  of  the  athletes,  and  the 
.sixth  form,  and  all  the  rest  pay  them  (the  athletes)  the 
greatest  respect,  and  the  most  willing  obedience.  They 
obey  the  sixth  (lawful  authority)  less  willingiy.  All  this 
is  not  quite  satisfactory,  but  it  might  be  worse.  At  all 
events  Temple,  who  is  a  tremendous  itadical,  knows  it  and 


X.]  LETTERS  TO  II IS  BOYS.  155 

allows,  nay,  encourages  it.     But  I  find  tliat  few  people  aro 
Iladicals  in  their  own  departments." 

"Offi.ey,  November  7ih,  18G8. 

"  I  went  for  tlie  day  to  see  the  old  Eug.  match,  and  gave 
Walter  and  Herbert  a  dinner  at  the  '  Shoes  '  before  aoin^ 
away.  Walter  played  in  the  matcn,  and  the  young  ones 
gave  it  the  old  Kugs  hot,  much  to  my  delight.  Waiter 
seemed  wonderfully  well,  and  ditto  Herbert.  He  always 
looks  pale  at  school,  but  he  was  in  high  spirits,  and 
evidently  enjoys  school  life.  He  is  very  different  from  me 
in  some  things  ;  his  study  is  awfully  'cute  (that's  boys' 
English,  and  means  tidy  and  full  of  knick-knacks)  ;  in  fact 
he  is  a  bit  of  a  dandy  ;  I  was  not.  Also  he  nu;st  be  a 
better  boy  than  I  was,  for  his  character  is  really  first- 
rate  in  everything:  and  the  masters  used  always  to  row 
me  for  not  doing  as  much  as  I  could.  That  was  the 
burden  of  their  song." 

As  a  complement  to  these  letters,  I  add  here  extracts 
from  those  to  his  eldest  boy  : — 

Thank  you  much  for  your  letter  received  this  morning  ; 
you  are  very  good  in  writing  so  regularly,  and  I  hope  you 
will  keep  up  the  habit,  for  (I  repeat)  there  is  no  pleasure 
to  us  so  great  as  to  receive  your  letters.  We  are  glad  to 
hear  you  are  '  all  right '  in  your  form.  I  have  no  objection 
to  the  Eifle  corps.  It  would  be  odd  if  I  had,  as  I  was  a 
Volunteer  myself  ;  ordy  go  into  it  heartily,  and  learn  your 
drill  welL  It  is  capital  exercise,  and  it  will  do  you  good  to 
be  '  set  up,'  as  you  stoop  too  much.  I  should  not  think, 
however,  that  Temple  would  let  tlie  Paigby  volunteers  go  to 
Windsor.  If  he  thinks  proper  to  do  so,  of  course  I  have  no 
objection.  I  suppose  that  as  usual  you  are  'hard  up,'  so  I 
send  you  a  P.O.  order.    You  must  learn  to  exercise  u  little 


156  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTIJEE.  [cHAP. 

forethought  and  self-denial  about  money  matters :  you 
spend  more  than  your  income.  You  must  overcome  this 
habit,  for  it  would  embarrass  and,  perhaps,  ruin  you 
hereafter." 

The  next  extract  refers  to  some  help  in  his  work  which 
his  father  sent  him  from  time  to  time : — 

"  I  depend  upon  your  looking  out  all  the  words,  and  work- 
ing it  out  for  yourself  with  the  help  of  my  translation. 
You  promised  me  to  do  this,  and  I  know  you  are  a  boy  of 
3'oar  word,  otherwise  I  shouldn't  think  it  right  to  help  you. 
Your  tutor  may  ask  if  you  have  any  assistance.  If  he 
does  you  must  say  you  found  it  very  hard  (which  it  really 
is  for  a  boy  of  your  age),  and  asked  me  to  hulpyoa.  There 
is  nothing  like  being  open  and  truth-telling  with  your 
masters,  and  every  one.  If  he  objects  to  my  helping  you, 
you  must  do  the  best  you  can  without  it,  like  a  iium ;  but  I 
don't  think  he  will  object.  Your  place  in  the  form  seems 
very  satisfactory:  if  you  do  get  out  we  shall  be  very  much 
pleased,  but  don't  make  yourself  anxious  about  it,  only  do 
your  best.  .  .^  .  ." 

Again  at  the  beginning  of  the  following  half-year : — 

"  The  reason  you  give  for  having  lost  a  few  places  is  no 
doubt  the  right  one — that  you  have  not  got  yet  into  the 
swing — it  will  be  all  right  in  a  week  or  two.  I  have  no 
doubt  you  will  get  your  remove  at  the  end  of  term  easily 
enough.  The  exam,  (if  I  understand  rightly)  consists  of 
subjects  which  you  prepare  during  term,  and  there  is  not 
much  '  unseen.'  This  will  be  an  advantage  to  you  over 
the  idle  ones  who  don't  prepare  their  work.  I  shall  be 
delighted  to  help  you  in  any  way,  if  you  will  only  let  me 
know,  and  give  me  due  notice.  Perhaps  you  won't  believe 
me  when  I  assure  you  again,  that  Latin  prose  will  come  to 


X.]  LETTERS  TO  HIS  BOYS.  ir.7 

you  as  well  as  cricket  and  football  in  good  time ;  but  it  is 
the  truth  nevertheless.  At  your  age  I  often  felt  the  same 
discouragement  which  you  feel.  I  had  rather  overgrown 
myself  like  you,  and  was  longer  '  ripening '  (to  use  an  ex- 
pressive phrase)  than  many  fellows  who  did  not  grow  so 
fast ;  but  it  all  came  right  in  my  case,  as  it  will  in  yours. 

Therefore  en  avant  and  don't  be  discouraged " 

"  We  are  very  glad  to  hear  that  you  are  in  upper-middle 
one,  and  it  will  make  us  very  happy  if  you  can  get  anotlier 
remove  at  Christmas.  It  is  to  be  done  if  you  like,  and  as 
you  cannot  play  football  just  now  (worse  luck)  you  will 
have  more  time.  Don't  you  want  some  help  in  your  tutor 
work  ?  If  so,  send  me  the  book  ;  or  is  there  anything  else 
in  which  I  can  help  you?  You  are  now  rapidly  becoming 
a  young  man,  and  have  probably  some  influence  in  the 
school,  and  will  have  more.  Be  kind  to  the  new  boys  and 
juniors;  even  if  they  are  'scrubby,'  your  business  is  to 
polish  them,  and  you  will  do  this  much  better  by  a  little 
kind  advice  than  by  making  their  lives  a  burden  (I  don't 
say,  mind,  that  you  are  unkind  to  them).  Don't  'bosh' 
your  masters.  Eemember  that  they  are  gentlemen  like 
yourself,  and  that  it  is  insulting  them  to  '  bosh '  them 
when  they  are  taking  trouble  with  you.  As  to  the  sixth 
form,  I  don't  quite  approve  of  all  the  customs  thereof,  but 
it  is  an  institution  of  the  school,  and,  on  the  whole,  bene- 
ficial, and  it  is  no  use  kicking  against  it.  Now  I  have 
done  with  my  preaching.  I  don't  know  that  it  is  neces- 
sary, but  it  can  do  you  no  harm,  and  I  know  you  respect 
my  opinion.  Your  mother  is  horrified  at  your  signing 
yourself  'Hughes,'  tout  court  (as  the  French  say),  so  to 
please  her  don't  forget  to  put  in  '  your  affectionate  son ' 
(as  I  know  you  are).     God  bless  you. 

"Yours  most  affectionately, 

"G.  E.  Hughes." 


153  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHEB.  [chap. 

"  I  was  much  pleased  by  your  writing  so  openly  to  me. 
It  will  make  me  very  happy  if  you  will  treat  me  with 
perfect  confidence  in  all  matters.  You  need  have  no  fear 
tliat  I  shall  not  understand  and  sympathise  with  you,  for 
althongh  (as  we  have  said  in  joke)  I  was  a  Eugbeian  in 
the  time  of  the  ancient  Britons,  when  we  had  no  breeches, 
and  painted  ourselves  bliie  for  decency's  sake,  it  seems  to 
me  a  very  short  time  since  I  was  as  you  are,  and  I  have 
a  very  vivid  recollection  of  my  youth,  feelings,  prejudices, 
faults,  and  all  the  rest  of  it." 

And  then,  after  some  advice  about  his  matriculation  at 
Oxford,  his  father  goes  on  : — 

"I  am  not  going  to  preach  to  you  about  billiards.  If 
there  had  been  a  table  at  Rugby  in  my  time  (there  was 
none),  I  might  very  possibly  have  played  myself;  although, 
like  yon,  I  should  certainly  not  have  made  a  habit  of  it, 
preferring,  as  I  did  and  do,  more  active  amusements. 
Don't  play  again  at  Eugby ;  it  would  be  childish,  as  well 
as  wrong,  to  risk  leaving  the  school  under  a  cloud,  for  such 
a  paltry  gratification.  I  don't  agree  with  you  in  comparing 
billiards  to  your  school  games  :  billiards  (public)  generally 
involve  smoking,  and  a  certain  amount  of  drinking,  and 
losing  money  (or  winning,  which  is  worse) ;  and  engender  a 
sort  of  lounging  habit.  I  am  afraid  you  have  rather  a  fast 
lot  at  Eugby,  and  what  you  tell  me  about  card-playing 
makes  me  rather  anxious  aboiit  Jack.  It  is  altogether 
abominably  bad  form,  and  I  wish  you  would  get  up  an 
opposition  to  it.  It  ought  to  be  put  down  for  the  credit  of 
the  school.  I  must  say  that  there  was  no  such  card- 
playing  in  my  time.  Ifaving  said  my  say,  I  must  leave 
you  to  do  what  you  can,  in  concert  with  any  other  big 


X.']  LETTERS  TO  HIS  BOYS.  ^^^ 

fellows   in   the  house,  who  may  be   brought  to  see   the 
matter  in  my  light." 

The  "  Jack  "  referred  to  in  the  last  letter  was  his  third 
boy,  who  was  now  in  his  first  term  at  a  preparatory  school 
fur  Kugby.  This  chapter  may  fitly  close  with  his  letters  to 
this,  the  youngest  of  his  boys  whom  he  lived  to  see  launched 
at  school.  He  was  a  favourite  subject  of  study  to  his  father, 
who  writes  of  him  at  Pau,  years  before :  "  Jack  will  be,  I 
think,  the  strongest  of  the  lot.  He  always  clears  his  plate, 
fat  and  all,  and  always  clears  his  lesson,  however  dis- 
agreeable;" and  again,  to  his  sister,  who  was  the  boy's 
godmother : — 

Your  favoiirite  Jack  is  always  running  after  me,  and 
is  a  very  good  boy,  and  surprisingly  good  company  too. 
He  has  not  quite  furgotten  how  to  '  beak '  himself  when 
he  feels  insulted.  About  a  week  ago  the  children  had 
some  shrimps  for  tea,  and  Jack  was  offended  because  he 
was  presented  with  a  '  baby '  shrimp  instead  of  a  big  one  ; 
so  he  pushed  his  chair  from  the  table,  and  prostrated 
himself  on  his  knees,  with  his  nose  in  the  carpet.  After 
remaining  for  five  minutes  in  that  position,  he  felt  better. 
It  is  a  more  amusing  way  of  getting  rid  of  steam  than 
crying.  Children  have  the  funniest  fancies  in  the  world. 
There  is  a  Scotch  terrier  next  door  to  us,  with  a  grave 
and  venerable  face,  and  a  long  grey  beard.  Jack  said  one 
day,  'that  doGfgy  like  Moses  coming  down  de  mountain;' 
and  so  he  really  is  like  Moses,  in  one  of  those  little  wood- 
cuts in  whicli  children  delight,  but  I  should  never  have 
thought  of  such  a  ridiculous  comparison." 


160  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 


"Westward  Ho,  October  1871. 

*'  Dearest  Old  Boy, 

"  Here  we  are  all  ripht,  and  I  wish  we  had  your  jolly 
face  at  the  other  end  of  the  table,  for  we  miss  you  very 
nmch.  I  have  begun  golf,  but  there  are  not  many  golfers 
here  yet ;  however,  there  is  one  very  good  player  named 
Olipliant,  so  I  have  not  much  chance  of  the  medal.  Your 
friends  the  Molesworths  are  both  gone  to  Eadley  School, 
near  Oxford.  There  are  only  100  boys  there,  but  it  is  a 
nice  place,  and  being  near  the  Thames,  they  get  plenty  of 
rowing ;  in  fact,  that  is  their  chief  amusement.  Ned  plays 
golf  with  me,  but  has  not  got  into  his  play  yet.  You  are 
a  good  old  boy  for  writing  so  often,  and  I  hope  you  will 
continue  it.  Nothing  gives  us  so  much  i)leasure  as  your 
letters  and  Herbert's,  and  don't  think  that  anything  that 
happens  to  you  is  too  trifling  to  tell  us  of  Now  about  your 
letter.  I  always  thought  that  you  would  find  the  lessons 
rather  a  grind  at  first :  you  see  it  is  your  first  school,  and 
you  have  had  no  experience  in  working  with  a  lot  of  other 
boys,  perhaps  making  a  row,  and  idling  around  you.  Never 
mind.  It  will  get  easier  every  day,  and  besides,  I  believe 
that  you  have  something  of  the  bull-dog  about  you,  and 
won't  be  discouraged  by  a  little  hardship  and  difficulty  at 
first.  I  hope  you  will  be  one  of  your  fifteen,  for  then  I 
shall  come  up  to  see  you  play,  but  anyhow  I  am  as  certain 
as  I  can  be  of  anything  that  you  will  be  first-rate  at  foot- 
ball some  day,  and  a  first-rate  schohir  too,  I  hope.  The 
two  things  often  go  together.  All  well,  and  send  best  love. 
Mamma  and  Argy  hope  your  shoulder  is  not  much  hurt, 
and  I  have  no  doubt  it  is  all  right  again.  God  bless  you. 
"  Yours  most  affectionately, 

"  G.  E.  H. 

"P.S. — I  shall  never  think   anything   that   you   write 
awful  bosh.' " 


X.]  LETTERS  TO  HIS  BOYS.  161 

"  Offlfa',  "Westward  Ho,  1871. 

"Dearest  Jack, 

"  Thank  you  for  your  letters,  which  interest  ns 
immensely.  Boys  make  the  most  absurd  customs,  as 
you  will  find  out :  it  is  Letter  to  give  way  to  their  customs 
in  a  good-tempered  way ;  new  boys  are  not  admitted  at 
once  to  the  full  privileges.     It  does  not  much  matter,  as  I 

hope  you  won't  be  long  at ,     Boys  think  it  very  fine 

and  manly  not  to  prepare  their  lessons,  whereas  in  fact 
nothing  can  be  more  childish.  Take  your  own  way,  and 
never  mind  them.  It  is  half  pretence  with  them,  and  they 
will  respect  you  more  if  they  see  you  have  your  own  way. 
You  need  not  stand  being  '  sat  upon,'  and  yet  you  can  be 
good-tempered  and  obliging,  but,  above  all,  don't  forget 
what  I  said  to  you  when  we  parted.  Don't  forget  the 
lessons  you  have  learnt  at  home  (I  don't  mean  Latin  and 
Greek).  God  bless  you.  Write  as  often  as  you  have 
time. 

"  Yours  most  affectionately, 

"  G.  E.  H." 

"October  1871. 

"  Dearest  Old  Boy, 

"  Thank  you  for  your  letters.  They  are  well  written 
and  spelt,  and  creditable  to  you  in  every  way.  Although 
it  is  not  pleasant  to  us  to  hear  that  you  are  miserable  (or 
rather  uncomfortable,  for  '  miserable  '  is  a  strong  word),  yet 
we  always  like  to  hear  exactly  what  you  feel.  I  don't 
think  you  can  be  exactly  miserable,  for  I  believe  that  you 
are  doing  your  best.  God  will  not  suffer  us  to  be  miserable 
(at  least  not  for  any  time)  whilst  we  do  our  duty.  Don't 
be  discouraged  about  your  work  ;  you  see  it  is  your  first 
plunge  into  school.  All  your  schoolfellows  have  had  more 
experience  than  you :  practice  will  give  you  the  quickness 
and  accuracy  that  you  want. 

M 


162  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTEEB.  [chap. 

"  Your  feelings  towards  us  are  quite  natural :  when  you 
are  at  home,  perfectly  happy,  although  you  do  not  love 
-us  less,  you  do  not  feel  it  so  much ;  when  you  are  thrown 
among  a  lot  of  people  who  do  not  much  care  about  you, 
you  hud  out  the  value  of  our  love  for  you,  and  think  more 
of  us.  However,  you  have  Herbert,  and  I  daresay  you 
think  that  you  love  him  better  now  than  ever  you  did  at 
home.  As  we  are  all  sinful  and  imperfect  creatures,  I  have 
no  doubt  that  you  have  sometimes  done  and  said  things 
which  we  should  be  sorry  to  hear  of.  You  must  ask  God 
to  help  you  to  do  better  in  future ;  but  I  must  say  that  I 
have  always  found  you  good  and  obedient,  and  you  have 
never  given  us  any  anxiety.  There  is  one  lesson  which 
you  ought  to  learn  from  your  present  feelings  of  discomfort 
and  worry  ;  when  you  are  a  big  boy  at  Eugb}^,  and  see  any 
poor  little  fellow  worried  and  uncomfortable,  you  must  say 
a  kind  word  to  him  (remembering  what  you  once  felt 
yourself) ;  you  have  no  idea  how  much  good  a  kind  word 
from  a  big  fellow  (what  you  call  a  swell)  will  do  to  a  poor 
little  begear.  You  remember  how  kind  Gardner  was,  and 
how  much  he  was  liked  at  Kugby  for  it.  All  are  well,  and 
send  best  love.  I  fully  intend  to  come  to  see  you  when 
I  get  back  to  Ofiley — perhaps  to  the  old  Eug.  match. 
God  bless  you. 

"  Yours  most  affectionately, 

"  G.  E.  Hughes." 


"Dearest  Old  Boy,  " November, \i,n. 

"  I  know  why  you  feel  rather  down  in  the  mouth  just 
now.  You  have  (to  use  a  phrase  in  athletics)  lost  your 
first  wind,  and  haven't  yet  got  your  second  wind.  The 
novelty  of  excitement  of  school  life  has  gone  off,  and  you 
are  too  new  to  it  yet  to  enjoy  what  there  is  enjoyable  in  it. 
Courage !  I  know  your  feelings  well,  having  experienced 


X.]  LETTERS  TO  HIS  BOYS.  163 

them  myself.  So  has  Herbert :  so,  in  short,  has  everyone 
who  has  ever  been  at  school.  You  will  soon  get  over  it 
all,  and  like  your  school  life,  although  of  course  it  is  not 
BO  pleasant  as  home.  Most  schoolboys  are  selfish  and  bad- 
mannered,  and  there  are  always  plenty  of  snobs  and  bullies 
amongst  them ;  but  there  is  always  a  minority  of  nice 
fellows.  I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  as  you  go  so  often 
to  Arnold's,  you  have  not  made  much  acquaintance  with 
your  schoolfellows.  Perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  culti- 
vate their  acquaintance  more.  Don't  be  afraid  about  not 
getting  into  Rugby.  You  ought  to  have  heard  Herbert's 
doleful  forebodings  about  never  being  able  to  get  out  of 
lower  school :  he  was  nmch  more  doleful  than  you,  but  if 
you  were  to  remind  him  of  it,  he  would  probably  not 
remember  it  at  all ;  neither  will  you  a  year  hence.  If 
you  are  hungry,  can't  you  buy  grub  in  the  town  ?  I 
mean,  something  like  sausage-rolls,  or  hard  eggs.  I  will 
give  you  the  money  for  it ;  or  can  you  suggest  any  way 
in  which  we  can  supply  you  ?  What  do  you  do  on 
Sundays  ?  and  to  what  church  do  you  go  ?  I  wish  we 
could  have  you  with  us  occasionally,  just  as  much  as  you 
do.  All  are  well,  and  join  in  best  love.  God  bless  you. 
"  Yours  most  affectionately, 

"  G.  E.  Hughes." 

"  Dearest  Old  Boy,  "  Offley, 

"  I  believe  your  mamma  has  written  to  you,  but  I 
must  give  you  a  few  lines  to  say  how  much  we  were 
pleased  with  your  report  which  came  this  morning. 
There  is  no  happiness  in  this  world  so  great  to  us  as  the 
assurance  that  you  and  your  brothers  are  doing  well.  I 
am  very  sorry  that  you  were  down  in  the  mouth  at  my 
departure.  I  should  like  to  have  you  always  with  me, 
but  you  (being  a  boy  of  good  sense)  must  know  very 

M  2 


1G4  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

well  that  it  cannot  be  :  you  must  (like  all  others)  fly 
from  the  nest  some  time  or  other,  and  school  is  the  pre- 
paration for  a  longer  flight.  I  have  no  doubt  that  now 
you  are  all  right  again.  You  won't  be  downhearted  long, 
if  you  only  work  well  and  do  your  duty.  At  your  age  the 
spirits  are  very  elastic,  and  soon  recover  any  depression. 

"  We  shall  be  anxious  to  hear  about  your  cough  and 
Sharp's  opinion.     God  bless  you, 

"  Yours  most  affectionately, 

"G.  E.  H." 

"Offlet,  Sunday,  Nov.  26th,  1871. 

"Deaeest  Old  Boy, 

"  I  have  nothing  particular  to  tell  you,  but  must  write 
a  line  in  return  for  your  jolly  letters,  which  are  very  plea- 
sant to  us.  I  am  very  sorry  that  your  cough  is  not  better, 
I  am  afraid  that  you  will  not  get  rid  of  it  until  we  get  you 
at  home,  and  nurse  you  properly.  You  will  soon  be  with 
us  now ;  in  the  meantime  take  care  of  yourself,  and  make 
the  most  of  your  time  (I  don't  think  I  need  tell  you  to 
work,  as  you  seem  so  well  inclined  already).  I  will 
write  about  your  coming  home,  and  also  about  your 
going  up  for  the  entrance  Exam,  after  Christmas.  I 
wish  very  much  that  you  should  go  up.  I  really  don't 
see  why  you  should  go  to  Kugby  three  days  before  the 
Exam. ;  but  if  they  insist  upon  it,  I  suppose  it  must  be 
so.  I  liope  you  won  your  match  yesterday.  It  is  very 
unfortunate  that  you  could  not  play  as  you  would  have 
done  but  for  this  unlucky  cough.  Never  mind,  you  have 
plenty  of  time  before  you  for  football.  All  are  well,  and 
join  in  best  love  to  you.     God  bless  you, 

"  Yours  most  aflectionately, 

"  G.  E,  Hughes. 

"  The  hounds  come  to  Wellbury  to-morrow.     I  hope  your 
game  was  good.     Let  us  know." 


X.]  LETTERS  TO  HTS  BOYS.  165 

At  the  beginning  of  the  next  term  Jack  went  to  Eugby, 
and  ahnost  the  first  letter  he  received  from  his  father  was 
the  following  Valentine,  which  species  of  missive  appears 
to  have  become  popular  amongst  boys : — 

"February  23,  1872. 

"  This  is  the  month  when  little  Cu- 
-pid  robs  us  of  our  senses,  oh ! 
'Tis  he  inspires  me  to  renew 
My  doleful  strains  of  love  to  you, 
Oh,  charming,  fascinating  cru- 
-el  Walter  Jacky  Mansfield  Hugh- 
-es,  Scholse  Eugbeiensis,  oh! 

)  "  I  learn  to  dance  and  sew,  while  you 

Are  learning  Latin  tenses,  oh ! 
How  I  should  like  to  dance  with  you, 
Instead  of  with  my  frightful  grew- 
-some  governess,  oh  !  charming  cru- 
-el  Walter  Jacky  Mansfield  Hugh- 
-es,  Scholae  llugbeiensis,  oh  ! 

"  I'm  sure  the  least  that  yoii  can  do 
To  calm  my  nerves  and  senses,  oh  I 
Is  (though  'tis  slightly  overdue) 
To  take  this  little  billet-doux. 
And  be  the  Valentine  so  true 
Of  her  who  signs  herself  your  Su- 
-san,  charming,  fascinating  cru- 
-el  Walter  Jacky  Mansfield  Hugh- 
-es,  Scholae  Eugbeiensis,  oh  ! 

"  YouE  Susan." 


166  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

In  explanation  of  an  allusion  in  the  next  letter,  I  insert 
an  extract  of  the  same  date,  from  one  to  his  sister : — 

"  Jack  is  in  high  force,  but  has  been  having  extra  lessons 
(with  all  his  schoolfellows),  in  consequence  of  (what  he 
calls)  a  '  towel  fight,'  and  subsequent  '  war  dance,'  in 
which  the  school  indulged  in  an  irrepressible  burst  of 
youthful  spirits.     What  geese  boys  are  ! " 

"  Offley,  March  1872. 

"Dearest  Jack, 

"  I  hope  you  got  the  hamper  all  right,  and  that  the 
'grub '  was  good  and  of  the  right  sort.  Your  '  war  dance  ' 
amused  us  excessively,  and  of  course  there  is  no  harm  in  a 
war  dance  ;  but,  if  it  is  forbidden,  what  an  old  goose  you 
are  to  risk  having  impositions  and  extra  lessons  for  it ! 
But  schoolboys  are  always  the  same,  and  T  can't  expect  you 
to  be  wiser  than  the  rest. 

"  If  you  can't  make  out  why  your  copies  are  wrong,  why 
don't  you  ask  one  of  your  schoolfellows  ?  I  suppose  some 
of  them  are  good  fellows,  and  would  tell  you  your  mistake  ; 
or  say  openly  to  the  master  that  you  can't  find  out,  and  I 
should  think  he  would  enlighten  you.  At  least,  he  ought. 
We  shall  have  you  home  in  about  tliree  weeks,  and  right 
glad  we  shall  be.  Go  at  it  hard  for  the  remainder  of  the 
term,  for  remember  the  entrance  Exam,  You  must  work  a 
little  in  the  holidays  to  keep  up  what  you  know.  The  boys 
are  better,  and  have  been  playing  football  vigorously.  Best 
love  to  Herbert ;  ask  him  whether  he  wants  any  cricket 
practice.     I  mean  Hughes  to  bowl.     God  bless  you. 

"  Yours  most  affectionately, 

"  G.  E.  H." 

Westward  Ho,  from  which  several  of  the  preceding  letters 
were  wiitten,  had  become  liis  favourite  watering-place.    He 


X.]  LETTERS  TO  HIS  BOYS.  167 

liad  gone  there  at  first  by  chance,  and,  finding  links  and  a 
golf  club,  had  taken  to  the  game  with  his  usual  success. 
At  Pau  he  had  played  a  little,  but  certainly  never  handled 
a  club  till  he  was  past  forty.  Nevertheless,  though  it  is 
a  game  in  which,  I  am  told,  early  training  and  constant 
practice  is  almost  an  essential  condition  of  success,  he 
entered  for,  and  succeeded  in  winning  the  champion's  medal 
in  the  annual  gathering  of  1870.  Soon  after  his  return 
from  the  meeting  he  wrote  to  me. 

"  We  spent  three  very  pleasant  weeks  at  Westward  Ho. 
I  wish  that  I  could  infect  you  with  *  golfomania.'  Golf  is 
the  middle-aged  man's  game.  I  mean  by  the  middle-aged 
man,  the  man  who  could  ooice,  but  cannot  now,  get  down 
upop  a  leg  shooter.  We  had  a  dozen  hard-worked  men 
from  the  city,  besides  doctors,  lawyers,  soldiers  on  leave, 
etc.,  all  perfectly  mad  whilst  it  lasted.  I  was  quite  as  mad 
as  the  rest,  and  having  now  '  relapsed '  into  sanity,  I  am 
able  to  look  back  upon  it  with  the  most  intense  amuse- 
ment. The  humour  of  the  whole  thing  was  positively 
sublime.  You  have  heard  squires  at  their  wine  after  a 
good  run — bless  you,  they  can't  hold  a  candle  to  golfers. 
Most  of  the  players  were  Scotch,  and  the  earnestness  with 
which  the  Scotch  '  play '  is  a  caution.  I  think  of  trying  my 
liand  at  a  rhapsody  about  golf." 

The  rhapsody  was,  I  believe,  never  written,  but  he  con- 
tinued to  like  and  practise  the  game  till  his  death,  which 
indeed  is,  in  my  mind,  rather  painfully  connected  with  it. 
My  last  visit  co  Offley  was  in  the  short  Easter  vacation  of 
this  year,  and  I  thought  I  had  never  seen  him  better,  or 


168  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

in  more  full  vigour  of  body  and  mind.  On  the  SOtli  of 
March  he  mounted  me,  and  I  rode  with  him  and  two  of 
his  boys  to  a  meet  near  Offley.  We  had  a  run  early  in  the 
day,  and  got  home  to  a  late  lunch,  after  which  he  went  out 
into  his  plantations  and  worked  till  dark.  Indeed,  when 
I  left  the  same  evening  by  the  mail  train  for  the  north,  I 
beguiled  my  journey  by  thinking  that  the  whole  kingdom 
might  be  searched  in  vain  to  find  a  finer  specimen  of  a 
man.  On  that  day  four  weeks  I  received  a  telegram  from 
Hoylake  to  say  that  he  was  lying  there  very  dangerously  ill. 
He  had  gone  on  there,  after  leaving  his  boys  at  Eugby,  to 
take  part  in  the  golf  tournament.  He  went  down  with  a 
bad  cold,  but  paid  no  attention  to  it,  and  went  round  the 
links  with  some  friends  on  the  first  evening.  The  next 
day  he  became  much  worse,  and  was  obliged  to  take  to  his 
bed,  from  which  he  never  got  up.  The  cold  had  settled  on 
his  lungs,  and  violent  inflammation  was  set  up.  His  wife 
and  children  were  summoned  at  once,  and  his  mother  and 
sister  and  myself  two  days  later.  When  I  arrived,  the 
lower  part  of  the  lungs  had  suppurated,  and  the  medical 
man  gave  very  slight  hopes  of  his  recovery.  He  could 
only  speak  with  exceeding  difficulty,  but  retained  his 
strength,  and  the  grip  of  his  hand  was  as  strong  as  ever. 
He  met  death  with  the  same  courage  as  he  had  shown 
throughout  life,  giving  me  a  few  clear  instructions  for  a 
codicil  to  his  will,  while  his  youngest  boy  lay  with  his 
head  on  his  shoulder,  crying  bitterly,  and  almost  with  h^° 


X.]  LETTERS  TO  HIS  BOYS.  109 


last  breath  regretting  the  trouble  he  was  giving  his  nurse. 
On  the  afternoon  of  May  1st  he  received  the  Sacrament 
with  all  of  us,  and  at  four  on  the  morning  of  the  2nd 
passed  away,  leaving  behind  him,  I  am  proud  to  think,  no 
braver  or  better  man.  But  you  shall  have  better  testimony 
than  mine  on  this  point.  Out  of  the  many  letters  to  the 
same  purpose  which  I  received,  and  two  of  which  have 
found  a  place  in  the  earlier  part  of  this  memoir,  I  select 
an  extract  from  one  written  by  Bishop  MacDougal,  who, 
thirty  years  ago,  had  rowed  behind  him  in  the  University 
boat. 

"  I  must  just  write  a  line  to  express  my  heartfelt  sym- 
pat^hy  with  you  in  your  sad,  sad  bereavement.  Dear  old 
George !  "What  an  irreparable  loss  to  you  and  all  ]iis  old 
friends !  I  have  myself  been  heavy-hearted  ever  since  I 
heard  he  had  been  called  away  from  us,  and  shall  never 
think  of  his  cheery  voice,  his  hearty  greeting,  his  kindly, 
loving  words,  without  a  sharp  pang  of  regret  that  I  shall 
no  more  in  this  life  meet  with  him  I  loved  so  well,  and 
admired  as  the  finest  specimen  of  the  high-minded,  earnest, 
true-hearted  English  gentleman  it  has  been  my  lot  to  meet 
with.  He  was  too  good  for  tliis  hard,  selfish  generation, 
and  he  is  in  God's  mercy  called  away  to  that  better  world, 
where  love  and  truth  and  peace  dwell  undisturbed  in  the 
presence  of  our  blessed  Lord,  May  we,  my  dear  Tom, 
have  grace  given  us  so  to  fight  tlie  good  fight  of  truth  and 
faith,  that  when  our  work  is  done  we  may  be  called  thither 
to  join  your  dear  brother  and  our  other  loved  ones,  who 
have  gained  the  victory  over  self  and  the  world,  and  havo 
been  called  to  tlieii-  rest  before  us." 


CHAPTER   XI 

CONCLUSION. 

On  looking  through  the  preceding  pages,  I  have  been 
struck  with  one  special  shortcoming.  I  am  painfully 
conscious  how  poor  and  shallow  the  picture  here  attempted 
will  be,  in  any  case,  to  those  who  knew  my  brother  best. 
Nevertheless,  those  for  whom  it  was  undertaken  will, 
I  trust,  be  able  to  get  from  it  some  clearer  idea  of  the 
outer  life  of  their  father  and  uncle,  but  of  that  which 
underlies  the  outer  life  they  will  learn  almost  nothing. 
And  yet  how  utterly  inadequate  must  be  any  knowledge 
of  a  human  being  which  does  not  get  beneath,  this  surface  ! 
How  difficult  to  do  so  to  any  good  purpose!  For  that 
"  inner,"  or  "  eternal,"  or  "  religious  "  life  (call  it  which  you 
will,  they  all  mean  the  same  thing)  is  so  entirely  a  matter 
between  each  human  soul  and  God,  is  at  best  so  feebly 
and  imperfectly  expressed  by  the  outer  life.  But,  difficult 
as  it  may  be,  the  attempt  must  be  made  ;  for  I  find  that 
I  cannot  finish  my  task  with  a  good  conscience  without 
making  it. 


CHAP.  XI.]  CONCLUSION.  171 

There  is  not  one  of  you,  however  young,  hut  must  be 
living  two  lives — and  the  sooner  you  come  to  recognize 
the  fact  clearly,  the  better  for  you — the  one  life  in  the 
outward  material  world,  in  contact  with  the  things  which 
you  can  see,  and  taste,  and  handle,  which  are  always 
changing  and  passing  away :  the  other  in  the  invisible,  in 
contact  with  the  unseen  ;  with  that  which  does  not  change 
or  pass  away — which  is  the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and 
for  ever.  The  former  life  you  must  share  with  others, 
with  your  family,  your  schoolfellows  and  friends,  with 
everyone  you  meet  in  business  or  pleasure.  The  latter 
you  must  live  alone,  in  the  solitude  of  your  own  inmost 
being,  if  you  can  find  no  Spirit  there  communing  with 
yours — in  the  presence  of,  and  in  communion  with,  the 
Father  of  your  spirit,  if  you  are  willing  to  recognize  that 
presence.  The  one  life  will  no  doubt  always  be  the 
visible  expression  of  the  other;  just  as  the  body  is  the 
garment  in  which  the  real  man  is  clothed  for  his  sojourn 
in  time.  But  the  expression  is  often  little  more  than  a 
shadow,  unsatisfying,  misleading.  One  of  our  greatest 
English  poets  has  written — 

"  The  one  i-emains,  the  many  change  and  pass. 

Heaven's  light  for  ever  shines,  eailh's  shadows  fly. 
Time,  like  a  dome  of  many  coloured  glass, 
Stains  the  bright  radiance  of  eternity. 
Until  death  tramples  it  to  fragments." 

And  so  you  and  I  are  living  now  under  the  dome  of  many- 


172  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

coloured  glass,  and  shall  live  as  long  as  we  remain  in  these 
bodies,  a  temporal  and  an  eternal  life — "the  next  world," 
which  too  many  of  onr  teachers  speak  of  as  a  place  which 
we  shall  first  enter  after  death,  heino-  in  fact  "next  "  only 
in  the  truest  sense  of  the  word  ;  namely,  that  it  is  "  nearest " 
to  us  now.  The  dome  of  time  can  do  nothing  more  (if  we 
even  allow  it  to  do  that)  than  partially  to  conceal  from  us 
the  light  which  is  always  there,  beneath,  around,  above  us. 

"  The  outer  life  of  the  devout  man,"  it  has  been  well 
said,  "  should  be  thoroughly  attractive  to  others.  He 
would  be  sim]jle,  honest,  straightforward,  unpretending, 
gentle,  kindly ; — his  conversation  cheerful  and  sensible  ;  he 
would  be  ready  to  share  in  all  blameless  mirth,  indul- 
gent to  all  save  sin."  And  tried  by  this  test,  tlie  best  we 
have  at  command,  my  brother  was  essentially  a  devout  man. 

The  last  thirty  years,  the  years  of  his  manhood,  have 
been  a  period  of  great  restlessness  and  activity,  chietiy 
of  a  superficial  kind,  in  matters  pertaining  specially  to 
religion.  The  Established  Church,  of  which  he  was  a 
member,  from  conviction  as  well  as  by  inheritance,  has 
been  passing  through  a  crisis  which  has  often  threatened 
her  existence;  faction  after  faction,  as  they  saw  their 
chance,  rising  up  and  striving  in  the  hope  of  casting  out 
those  whose  opinions  or  practices  they  disliked.  Against 
all  such  attempts  my  brother  always  protested  whenever  he 
had  an  opportunity,  and  discouraged  all  those  with  whom 
he  had  any  influence  from  taking  any  part  in  them. 


xi.l  CONCLUSION.  173 

"I  have  no  patience,"  for  instance,  he  writes  at  one  of 

these  crises,  "  witli for  mixing  himself  up  with  Church 

politics.  I  believe  you  know  what  I  think  about  them, 
namely,  that  both  parties  are  right  in  some  things  and 
wrong  in  others,  and  that  the  truth  lies  between  the  two. 
I  hope  I  shall  always  be  able  to  express  my  dissent  from 
both  without  calling  names  or  imputing  motives,  and  when 
I  hear  others  doing  so,  I  am  always  inclined,  like  yourself, 

to  defend  the  absent.     I  was  very  sorry  to  hear  that 

has  given  up  his  parish.  I  cannot  understand  his  excessive 
attachment  to  what  is,  after  all,  only  the  outside  of  religion ; 
but  he  is  so  good  a  man,  so  hard-working,  so  self-denying, 
that  one  feels  what  a  great  loss  he  must  be." 

Outside  the  Church  tlie  same  religious  unrest  has  had 
several  noteworthy  results,  perhaps  the  most  remarkable  of 
these  being  a  negative  one :  I  mean,  the  aggressive  attitude 
and  movement  of  what  is  popularly  known  as  scientific 
thought.  Amongst  its  leaders  have  been,  and  are,  some  of 
the  best,  as  well  as  the  ablest,  men  of  our  time,  who  have 
had,  as  they  deserved  to  have,  a  very  striking  influence. 
But  the  tone  of  scientific  men  towards  religion  has  been 
uniformly  impatient  or  contemptuous,  not  seldom  petulant. 
"  Why  go  on  troubling  yourselves  and  mankind  about  that 
of  which  you  c^n  know  nothing  ? "  they  have  said.  "  This 
*  eternal '  or  '  inner '  life  of  which  you  prate  is  wholly  beyond 
your  ken.  We  can  prove  to  you  that  much  of  your 
so-called  theology  rests  on  unsound  premises.     Be  con- 


174  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

tent  to  work  and  learn  with  us  in  the  material  world, 
of  which  alone  you  can  get  to  know  anytliing  certain." 
That  challenge  has  shaken  the  foundations  of  much 
v.'hich  called  itself  faith  in  our  day.  I  never  could 
discover  that  my  brother  was  ever  seriously  troubled 
by  it.  Dissertations  on  the  Mosaic  cosmogony,  theories 
of  the  origin  of  species,  speculations  on  the  antiquity 
of  man,  and  the  like,  interested,  but  never  seemed  to  rouse 
in  him  any  of  the  alarm  or  anger  which  they  have  excited 
in  so  many  good  Christians.  Granting  all  that  they  tend 
to  prove,  they  deal  only  with  the  outward  garment,  with 
the  visible  universe,  and  the  life  which  must  be  lived  in  it, 
leaving  the  inner  and  real  life  of  mankind  quite  untouched. 

He  was,  however,  neither  so  tolerant  of,  nor  I  think  so  fair 
to,  the  stirring  of  thought  within  the  Church,  which  has 
resulted  in  criticisms  supposed  to  be  destructive  of  much 
that  was  held  sacred  in  the  last  generation.  His  keen 
sense  of  loyalty  was  offended  by  anything  which  looked  like 
an  attack  coming  from  within  the  ranks,  and  so  he  shared 
the  feeling  so  widely,  and  I  think  wrongly,  entertained 
by  English  Churchmen,  that  the  right  of  free  thought 
and  free  speech  on  the  most  sacred  subjects  should  be 
incompatible  with  holding  office  in  the  Church. 

As  to  his  own  convictions  on  such  subjects,  he  was 
extremely  reserved,  owing  to  a  tendency  which  he  believed 
he  had  detected  in  himself  to  religious  melancholy,  which 
be  treated  simply  as  a  disease.     But  no  one  who  knew 


XI.]  CONCLUSION.  176 

him  at  all  could  ever  doubt  that  a  genuine  and  deep 
religious  faith  was  the  basis  of  his  character,  and  those 
who  knew  him  best  testify  unanimously  to  its  ever  in- 
creasing power.  "  I  don't  know  if  you  were  ever  told," 
his  sister  writes,  "  of  the  singular  desire  dying  people 
had  that  George  should  be  with  them.  You  know  how 
reserved  he  was,  and  he  would  always  think  that  people 
would  prefer  some  one  who  talked  more  to  them,  but  I 
think  it  was  his  great  gentleness  and  strength  which 
made  the  dying  feci  him  such  a  comfort.  He  never  volun- 
teered ;  but  when  sent  for,  as  was  often  the  case,  always 
went  to  them,  and  read  and  prayed  constantly  with  them 
as  long  as  they  lived.  There  was  one  poor  young  man  who 
died  of  consumption,  and  George  was  constantly  with  him 
to  the  last.  The  father  was  a  very  disreputable  character, 
and  George  seldom  saw  him.  But  some  time  after  the 
young  man's  death,  the  father  met  George  in  the  fields, 
and  threw  himself  on  his  knees  to  bless  him  for  his  love 
for  his  dead  son.  George  came  home  much  shocked  that 
the  man  should  have  knelt  to  him.  One  old  man,  whom 
he  used  to  go  to  for  weeks  and  weeks  during  his  long  last 
illness,  really  adored  him,  and,  when  George  was  away  for 
a  short  time,  prayed  that  he  might  live  till  he  saw  him 
again.     And  George  was  back  before  he  died," 

Of  this  old  man,  he  v/rites  himself  to  his  mother: — 

"  My  old  friend  died  on  Saturday  morning.     I  mean 
Tom  Pearse,  for  fifty  years  an  honest  labourer  in  this 


176  MEMOIR  OF  A  BROTHER.  [chap. 

pnrish.  T  am  very  sorry  that  (as  he  died  in  the  short 
hours)  T  covild  not  he  with  hhn  at  the  last,  hut  very  glad 
that  he  died  before  I  left  Oflfley.  So  was  he.  He  prayed 
every  day  to  die,  not  that  he  suffered,  hut  he  had  such  a 
strong  faith  that  death  would  he  much  hetter.  He  said 
to  me  almost  the  last  time  I  saw  him,  '  I  thought,  sir,  I 
should  have  been  home  before  this.'  And  when  he  was 
taken  worse  at  last,  he  aslced  the  nurse,  '  Am  I  going  home  ?' 
'  Yes.'  '  I'm  so  glad,'  he  answered,  and  died  soon  after. 
What  an  euthanasia  !  All  good  people  call  death  going 
home.  '  Let  me  die  the  death  of  the  righteous,  and  my 
last  end  be  like  his.'" 

Intercourse  of  the  most  sacred  and  intimate  kind  with 
the  old,  and  dying,  and  suffering  of  another  station  in  life 
is,  however,  far  easier  to  a  man  of  reserved  temper  than  it 
is  with  the  young  and  healthy.  The  most  difficult  class 
to  reach  in  country  villages,  as  in  our  great  towns,  is  that 
which  is  entering  life,  not  that  which  is  thinking  of 
quitting  it.  You  may  get  young  men  together  for  cricket 
or  football,  or  even  for  readings,  or  in  a  club,  and  attain  in  the 
process  a  certain  familiarity  with  them,  useful  enough  in 
its  way,  but  not  approaching  the  kind  of  intimacy  which 
should  exist  between  people  passing  their  lives  in  the 
same  small  commnnity.  The  effort  to  do  anything  more 
with  a  class  just  emancipated  from  control,  full  of  strength 
and  health,  and  as  a  rule  suspicious  of  advances  from  those 
in  a  rank  above  their  own,  must  always  be  an  exceedingly 
difficult  one  to  make  for  such  a  man  as  my  brother,  and  is 
rarely  successful.     He  made  it,  and  succeeded.    During  all 


XI.]  CONCLUSION.  -177 

the  winter  months,  on  every  Sunday  evening  the  young  men 
and  the  elder  boys  of  the  village  were  invited  to  his  house, 
and  quite  a  number  of  them  used  to  come  regularly.  Tliey 
were  received  by  him  and  his  wife.  First  he  would  read  a 
passage  of  Scripture,  and  explain  and  comment  on  it,  and 
afterwards  he  or  his  wife  read  to  them  some  amusing  book. 
He  used  to  speak  with  the  greatest  delight  of  tlie  pleasure 
which  these  meetings  seemed  to  give,  and  of  their  excellent 
effect  on  his  own  relations  with  the  young  men  and  boys 
who  frequented  them.  When  the  time  for  separating 
came,  they  used  all  to  say  the  Apostles'  Creed,  the  Lord's 
Prayer,  and  the  following  short  prayer,  which  he  wrote  ^ 
for  the  purpose :  — 

"  0  Lord  God,  Thou  knowest  all  things.  Thou  seest  us 
by  night  as  well  as  by  day.  We  pray  Thee,  for  Christ's 
sake,  forgive  us  whatever  we  have  done  wrong  this  day. 
May  we  be  sorry  for  our  sins,  and  believe  in  Jesus  Christ, 
who  died  for  sinners.  May  the  Holy  Spirit  make  us  holy. 
Take  care  of  us  this  night,  whilst  we  are  asleep.  Bless 
our  fathers  and  mothers,  brothers  and  sisters,  and  all  our 
relations  and  friends,  and  do  them  good,  for  Christ's  sake. 
Help  us  to  be  good  as  long  as  we  live,  and  wlien  we  die, 
may  we  go  to  heaven  and  be  happy  for  ever,  because  Christ 
died  for  us.     Amen." 

If  I  were  to  write  a  volume,  I  could  throw  no  clearer 
light  on  the  inner  life  of  my  brother  than  shines  out  of 

^  Since  this  was  printed  I  have  heard  that  the  prayer  was  not  written 
by  him,  but  only  adapted  for  the  use  of  the  boys  from  a  collection  of  soma 
Church  Society. 

N 


178  MEMOIR    OF  A   BROTHER.  [ch.  xi. 

this  short,  simple  prayer,  written  for  village  boys,  and  re- 
peated with  them  week  by  week.  Nor  is  there  any  other 
picture  of  him  that  I  would  rather  leave  on  your  minds 
than  this.  When  I  tliink  of  the  help  and  strength  which 
lie  has  been  to  me  and  many  more,  the  noble  lines  on  All 
Saints'  Day,  of  the  poet  I  have  already  quoted  in  this 
memoir,  seem  to  be  haunting  me,  and  with  them  I  will 
end. 

"  Such  lived  not  in  the  past  alone, 

But  thread  to-day  the  unheeding  street. 
And  stairs  to  sin  and  sorrow  known 
Sing  to  the  welcome  of  their  feet. 

"The  den  they  enter  glows  a  shrine. 
The  grimy  sash  an  oriel  burns. 
Their  cup  of  water  warms  like  wine, 

Their  speech  is  filled  from  heavenly  urns. 

"Around  their  brows  to  me  appears 
An  aureole  traced  in  tenderest  light, 
The  rainbow  gleam  of  smiles  thro'  tears. 
In  dying  eyes  by  them  made  bright, 

*'  Of  souls  who  shivered  on  the  edge 
Of  that  chill  ford,  repassed  no  more. 
And  in  their  mercy  felt  the  pledge 
And  sweetness  of  the  farther  shore." 


FINIS. 


•     • 


• »    ^ 


••    • 


• 


3  1205  02043  5739 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A  A  001  409  778  6 


